Chapter XXXVII: Part II (12)

Curious to know what had frightened the fellow, I took down the lantern, and together we sallied forth into the snow. We had hardly reached the middle of the meadow when a dark object came rushing towards us, and a sepulchral “bur-bur” sent Jim flying back in the direction of the barn.

“There it is!” he cried, in a voice full of terror.

I held the lantern aloft and shouted, “Who’s there?”

“Bur-bur,” was the reply. Then I ascertained the name and condition of this perturbed spirit. It was a _calf_! It suddenly dawned upon me that I had noticed the barn door was open when I first came down, and I immediately came to the conclusion that Jim had let the ghost out himself when he went in to put on his boots, which he was in the habit of leaving in the barn when his day’s work was over.

When Jim received a personal introduction to his ghost, he grew as courageous as Bob Acres before he came into actual contact with pistols and cold lead, and shouldering his bundle again he started forth, just as daylight was dawning in the east. I gave him my pouch of tobacco to render his journey less irksome, and that was the last I ever saw or heard of poor Jim.

The weather for the next three weeks was comparatively fine, and I got along far better, and sometimes managed to find time to indulge in the luxury of a “farmer’s holiday,” viz., chopping wood. Mr. Wiman seemed to be, on the whole, very well satisfied with me, and encouragingly informed me that he had no doubt but that I should get into working order by the time work commenced, which, in his opinion, was not until the spring, when ploughing, etc., began. This was something of a revelation to me. In my intense ignorance of farm matters I had imagined that there was already plenty to do.

It now became forcibly evident to me that I was not intended for a farmer. A daily communion with nature appeared every day less like the celestial “all beers and skittles” I had previously conceived it to be. The smoky London I had left became by comparison with my present surroundings a very seventh heaven of felicity. I began to long once more to relapse into a unit in one of the world’s great loveless hives. I communicated my desire to Mr. Wiman. He would not hear of my leaving him until the expiration of three months, vowing that I had agreed to stay for that term, and threatening that if I attempted to leave without his sanction, he would “have the law of me.” I had made no such agreement, but I saw that it would not help me to make a disturbance, and so restrained my natural indignation at such treatment. However, I determined to seek pastures new, and prepared my traps for flight at the first opportunity which offered itself.

I had not long to wait. A few days after my skirmish with the “boss,” he had to attend to some very important business at a neighbor’s farm about two miles farther east. Now or never was the time to escape. I immediately began my preparations by harnessing the best horse in the stable to a sledge. Everything was packed, so there was only the transfer of my chest from my room to the sledge. But how should I accomplish this without arousing her ladyship’s suspicions? The fates were propitious. I had barely finished harnessing the horse, when Mrs. Wiman’s stately form emerged from the house, with a hatchet in her hand.

“Where are you off to?” she inquired.

“Oh, I’m going to the wood to draw bark,” I replied, leisurely surveying the straps to disarm suspicion.

“S’pose you’ll be back in time for dinner,” she said, picking her way across the yard and entering the corn-bin, where a plentiful supply of killed cow was always kept.

“Oh, yes,” I answered. “And I guess when I return I’ll be jolly hungry, so please cut off a double dose for me,” I added, venturing upon a little joke as a kind of farewell. Then I darted across the yard, and went up to my room--I don’t know how many stairs at a time--and, by a herculean effort, shouldered my box, hurried down again, almost breaking my neck in my haste, and had it on the sledge before I had breath enough to say “Jack Robinson.” I was just in the act of covering it over with some sacks when Mrs. Wiman reappeared with a huge piece of raw flesh in her hand. She comprehended the situation in a flash.

“So you are a-going to draw bark, are yer? Not to-day, my beauty!” I cannot lay much claim to this distinction, and so remained modestly silent. Men cannot receive flattery with the same brazen effrontery which characterizes the least beautiful members of the softer sex.

“Now just take that ’orse out, afore I come and ’elp yer,” she continued. “And be lively about it, my fine feller.”

I was now fairly seated ready to start, and catching up the reins I lashed the horse, and we plunged out of the yard.

“Stand away, there, ma’am. Look out, or there’ll be a circus on this farm!”

* * * * *

What a drive that was! The snow began falling in heavy flakes, and I had only a very slight acquaintance with the road, but we went like the wind. Here we go through a drift! Capsized?--no, another miracle in our favor. The horse stumbles--he’s down? No, Providence again! Shall I be too late for a train? I have not the least idea of the time-table, but drive as if a whole legion of excited women in old huzzar jackets, with streaming hair and vengeance in their hearts, were after me.

Ah! there’s the lake, and over yonder is the railway station. The wind blows in my teeth; my blood tingles with excitement, and the horse, entering into the spirit of the affair--bolts! Yes, I have lost all control over him. He throws up his head, sniffs the keen air, and taking the bit between his teeth, tears through the snow, scattering it in clouds on either side, like a thing possessed. Here is another dilemma. Supposing he should take it into his head to gallop on right past the station, and return home by a short cut known only to himself. I hardly know now whether I should accentuate this period with a mark of interrogation or exclamation. I think a very large? would be the most suitable, as somewhat expressive of the chaos of horrors presented to my mind as the possibility of such a contingency arose. I cannot express what my feelings were at that moment; I leave the reader to draw his own inferences from the--?

The station at last! Thank Heaven! The runaway tears into the yard, but not deeming himself capable of clearing either the fence or the shanty, he comes to a dead standstill. I’m saved! I rush into the shanty, where I find the station-master fast asleep in his chair. My hurried entrance awakes him, and he starts up red in the face with anger and surprise, at such a display of energetic impatience in his private domain.

“What do you want, young man?” he asks, severely.

“I want a ticket for Montreal. When does the next train start?”

“Is that all ye disturbed me for? Well, I guess,” he replied, with provoking deliberateness, again settling himself comfortably in his chair, “I guess you’re afraid of being late, ain’t you? I likes punctual young men, that I do!”

“When does the train start?” I cried, angrily.

“Well, I rather think she’s got to get here first. _But_, if all’s well, she’ll start from this ’ere dee-pôt in three hours’ time.”

Three hours!--three mortal hours to wait. Horrors! Why, that gave time for Wiman to return home and start in pursuit. I paced up and down the yard like a caged lion, glancing every few minutes in the direction of the lake. At length the train came in sight, and almost simultaneously I noticed a team galloping with incontinent haste through the blinding snow, half-way across the lake.

It was a race between the iron horse and thews and sinews. On they come. Which will be the first in? With breathless interest I glance from one to the other.

Hurrah! the train is in. My baggage is checked and in the van.

“All aboard there! Right away!”

Here comes Wiman through, puffing and blowing like a grampus; and standing with easy grace upon the platform of the hindmost car, there goes “yours truly.”

A NIGHT PADDLE.

Amid the lilies in the marsh
The frogs in solemn chorus croak;
The owlet’s hooting, weird and harsh,
Is sounding from the hollow oak.
And far upon the hillside dark
I faintly hear the foxes bark.

Across my face the bat’s light wing
Just brushes with a strange dismay;
And from the shores some frightened thing
Slips softly down and swims away.
A fish leaps up--a silver flash,
’Mid widening ripples--and a splash!

A thin, wan spectre of the moon
Is rising late behind the hill;
The strange mad laughter of the loon
Peals o’er the lake--then all is still.
Amid the reeds, a gleaming spark--
A fire-fly dancing in the dark.

I hear the heart of Nature beat!
The world of men is far away.
O Soul, thy tameless brothers greet!
Thou art, to-night, as wild as they.
The savage blood is coursing fleet!
My heart with Nature’s heart doth beat!

_M. E. Gorham._

BASEBALL.

~The~ legislative work of the season of 1888 ended with the conventions of the National League and the American Association; the former being held in New York on November 21st, and the latter in St. Louis on December 5th. What was accomplished by the two organizations will unquestionably lead to an improvement in the working of the professional baseball business in 1889. Not only were the playing rules of the game greatly improved--though there is still room for further advancement toward a perfect code--but a movement was made toward the adoption of a system of salaries for players, more in accordance with the merit of the individual, and with the increase in the financial success of the clubs as a whole, than is possible under the previous star systems with its fancy salaries. The plan of grading salaries which was adopted at the League convention, and which could not be successfully carried out without the co-operation of the American Association, was virtually endorsed by the latter at their December convention by the appointment of a special committee to work out with a similar committee of the League a plan of grading salaries. These committees meet in New York in March, 1889. Neither organization took action at their respective conventions as to the adoption of the double umpire plan, which is the only true solution of the umpire difficulty. The American Association, by reducing the salaries of umpires to figures below those paid to their lowest-salaried player, took a decided step backward, as it is a short-sighted policy to discourage the entrance of the best class of men into the corps of umpires. The onerous duties of a capable staff of umpires exceed in the value of the work done those of the most important players of the club team, and they should be placed on a par with the best players in the matter of salaries, especially in view of the fact that good umpiring conduces as much to the financial success of a club as the work of successful battery players. Thousands of patrons were driven from ball grounds last season by the disgraceful rows which were induced by unsatisfactory umpiring, and this fact should be borne in mind when arranging the umpire salary question of 1889.

The movement, inaugurated by the editor of the Dublin _Sport_, in favor of the introduction of our national game, as one of the established sports of Ireland, naturally excites great interest in the United States. It is to be hoped that it will be followed up until the American game is practically inaugurated in Dublin. Since the baseball teams now in Australia have decided to return by way of Europe and the British Isles, an opportunity will be afforded our Irish friends to see how the game is played by our professional experts. It will give a great impetus to the game if the efforts of _Sport_ in organizing an Irish professional team can be practically carried out in time for the season of 1889. It only needs some of the Yankee energy and enterprise illustrated so strikingly in Mr. Spalding’s Australian tour to make the Irish movement a decided success. As Colonel Fellows says, “There’s millions in it!”

~Henry Chadwick.~

* * * * *

BOWLING.

~No~ game has taken a greater hold on the public than bowling. The game has always been very popular at summer hotels, and most of them have half a dozen alleys. One reason of its popularity is that both sexes can join in it, as in lawn tennis; and though, of course, a man has a great advantage, there are ladies in New York who can hold their own with the majority of the men. This was shown last year at the Knickerbocker Bowling Club, when the ladies’ aggregate scores were but a few points behind those of the men, and a score of 232 was made on one occasion by a lady. So great a demand for alleys has arisen that several have been specially built in such a way that portions of the building can be cut off. Thus several clubs use the same building, and yet the members of the one club need not intermingle with the members of the other.

Of the physical advantages derived from this exercise it is unnecessary to speak, but on the matter of appropriate dress some few remarks may not be out of place. A lady’s dress should not have too abundant skirts. They should be plain and fitting to the figure as the hand is apt to catch in flowing draperies. The bodice should be tight at the waist and loose in the arms, to allow ample room for the play of the muscles. It is impossible to bowl properly in a tight bodice that restricts the action of the chest and shoulders. For the same reasons a man’s costume should be loose and easy. Care should be taken to wrap up well after bowling. The exercise heats the body and a chill is easily taken.

As a rule, people are inclined to over-bowl, _i. e._, they will insist on using a ball too heavy for their strength. A “strike” can be made as easily with a ball of medium weight as with a very heavy one, and not one man in ten or woman in a thousand is capable of using the latter. The ball should be held firmly and a short run allowed of about six to ten feet. The ball should leave the hand easily and smoothly so that no decrease of pace or deviation of direction occur from the ball bumping. The center pin should be aimed at. It is well not to aim too much in the center of the pin, as the ball is apt to “cut” through and take only the center pins, a result usually alluded to as “hard luck,” when it is in reality bad play. It does not pay to use too great exertion, for a medium pace ball is as effective as a very fast one, and the strongest cannot keep up the pace through a long game. Complaints are often made that the fingers get sore and raw from bowling. A little alcohol applied in the morning and evening and occasionally a little alum rubbed in will be found very efficacious.

One thing is absolutely necessary, viz.: that there shall be efficient boys to place the pins exactly on the proper marks. A boy can if he chooses defeat the best bowler by misplacing the pins. This may not be visible to the bowler, but it will make a vast difference when the ball reaches the pins.

~C. S. Pelham-Clinton.~

* * * * *

THE CANOEING SEASON.

~Each~ year marks a decided advance in the popularity of this delightful sport. It appeals to a great variety of tastes and temperaments. It can be enjoyed on almost any sheet of water from a small stream or pond to the ocean itself. It is so many-sided--cruising, paddling, sailing, racing, exercising--that any one who has a taste for aquatics must be interested in it, even if not to the extent of owning a canoe. The season of last year was a memorable one in many ways. The coming season promises to be a still more remarkable one in the line of racing and the perfection of the sailing-canoe, on which a great amount of thought, work and money have been spent.

It is not probable that any one canoe will be able to beat the ’88 record of the _Eclipse_--seventeen first prizes and four second prizes out of a total of twenty-one races--but it is quite likely that canoe _Eclipse_ will find a worthy rival, as the last races of the season showed canoe _Fly_ to be quite her equal if not her superior in point of speed under sail.

The canoe is limited in size by the Association rules to a length of sixteen feet, with a beam of thirty inches for that length. The problem, therefore, is to get the very best lines for this size of boat, and the best sail plan. It is wonderful that the speed of the canoe has been so increased from year to year, each season showing a marked advance over the previous one. It does seem as though the limit must soon be reached unless some better material than wood can be invented to build the boats of. The fact must also be considered that these racing-canoes are not simply racing-machines, but generally good honest boats, capable of a variety of uses and remarkably safe for navigation. The most minute details of construction and rig receive great attention, and all sorts of experiments are tried with the hope of increasing the speed a few seconds in a mile. That 1889 will show some new boats of marked speed is certain from the amount of building and designing now going on--although there seems to be little chance of any international matches being arranged.

More is written and said of the racing-canoes than of others, but the fact remains that the cruising-canoe increases at many times the rate of the racers. Cruising appeals to so many--racing to the few--canoeing has “come to stay.” As racing is now carried on the sport presents almost as many purely scientific problems as yacht-racing and building. The solving of problems is a universal occupation--and all the canoe problems will not be solved for a generation at least, so there is no fear of the interest abating.

~C. Bowyer Vaux.~

* * * * *

FOILS AND FENCING.

~An~ encouraging feature in the athletic improvement noticeable throughout the country is the increase of the devotees of the foil. Fencing is acknowledged to be the accomplishment _par excellence_ of the nobility and gentry. To its practice may be attributed much of the grace and dignity of deportment conceded to the seigneurs of the ancient regime. There is no exercise that assists so materially in keeping the members of the body in good all-round condition during the winter months. We hear of active work being indulged in by members of the leading athletic clubs in New York, Washington, Baltimore and Boston. At the New York Fencers’ Club Captain Nicholas has his hands full and is giving more lessons than ever before. Three days in the week he devotes to a large class of lady pupils; friends, sisters or relatives of the male members only being admitted to the privilege of the elegant _salle d’armes_ of this club.

Professor Regis Senac is fully employed at the New York Athletic Club, and with such pupils as Messrs. Lawson, Bloodgood and others to point to, it is no wonder that his _clientèle_ is a strong one.

The Knickerbocker Fencing Club is undoubtedly one of the most perfectly appointed and most thoroughly workmanlike _salles d’armes_ in this country. With the services of such an able and accomplished swordsman as Monsieur Louis Rondell, it is not surprising that some very fine exhibitions of clever fencing may be witnessed in the rooms. M. Rondell also has a promising class of lady-fencers. He says that his fair pupils seem to thoroughly enjoy the sport and enter more enthusiastically and spiritedly into the bouts than his _protégés_ of the sterner sex. Great things are promised in the way of a grand _salle d’armes_ in the new building that will soon be the home of the Manhattan Athletic Club. Those who don the “double diamond” will see that fencing is not neglected. In fact, they have now, under the tuition of Louis Tronchet--a graduate of the famous college of Joinville les Ponts, and the present champion of America--a very promising class.

With such an enthusiastic following as this fascinating accomplishment now boasts of, it is somewhat surprising that a champion amateur tournament is not instituted. We hope that the present season will not be allowed to pass without an attempt of the kind being made. We feel sure the leading clubs in Annapolis, Baltimore, Washington, Boston and other cities will be glad to send representatives. Will not some one take the initiative?

~Charles E. Clay.~

* * * * *

PEDESTRIAN CONTESTS.

“~The~ noblest study of mankind is man,” quoth Pope; but since these words were written man has been presented in new aspects which would have made the poet open his eyes in wonder and amazement. What would our forefathers have thought if they had been told that a man could be treated as an automatic machine, and be set going and kept going for a certain length of time? What would they have thought if they had been told that a man would succeed in covering 623 miles in six days? Yet marvelous as such a performance appears even to a man of the present day, it seems probable that the limit of endurance and pluck has not yet been reached. The outcome of the contest between the four great walkers of the world, Littlewood, Albert, Rowell and Herty may and very possibly will eclipse the new record. The remarkable feature of the last “go-as-you-please” is that no less than ten men shared in the gate receipts--a record hitherto untouched. The excellent condition of Littlewood at the end of his task speaks volumes for the thoroughness of his training, and the other contestants who had undergone a course of preparation, suffered remarkably little from their efforts. The management of the show was all that could be desired in the hands of Mr. O’Brien and his able colleagues.

~Sporting Tramp.~

* * * * *

DOG CHAT.

~The~ Executive of the National Dog Club at its last meeting passed the following resolutions:

“That the American Kennel Club be formally notified that the National Dog Club of America is ready, and will be pleased to aid it in advancing the interest of the breeders and exhibitors of this country.

“That should the American Kennel Club desire to confer with the National Dog Club, the latter, on receiving such expression, will meet it in the person of Dr. J. Frank Perry, the chosen representative of the Executive Committee.

“That hereafter at all bench shows there shall be appointees of the Executive Committee of the National Dog Club to take charge of the dogs of those of the club’s members who are unable to attend; to see that such dogs are properly benched, fed, watered, groomed, brought before the judges, etc., and at the end of the show to superintend their reshipment. The expense of such service to be borne by the National Dog Club.”

A committee was appointed to consider the expediency of “listing” the breeders of America, with the ratings of each as regards fair dealing. Twenty new members were admitted to the club.

* * * * *

~The~ American Kennel Club will do well to bury the hatchet and meet the N. D. C. half way. Far more good can be accomplished by united action. No fitter representative could have been chosen by the National than Dr. J. Frank Perry, the honored president.

That is a bold venture, their proposed appointment of attendants at all bench shows, to take charge of members’ dogs. But it is a praiseworthy one, and will act as a most tempting bait to those fanciers who like to get their money’s worth.

* * * * *

~However~, the American Kennel Club has not been idle. They have not only drafted a new constitution and by-laws, materially differing from the old, but they propose to publish a Kennel Gazette and to form a club of associate members. This last scheme seems a great mistake. It is intended as a rival to the N. D. C.; but instead of being an autonomic association, it will be entitled to one representative in the counsels of the A. K. C., just as if it were a club of the local stamp, “run” by one man. As it is hoped that the unattached representative breeders will join, it will clearly be seen what an utter farce the thing would be. A body of our leading breeders would have no greater a representation than the one-man figure-head clubs!

The Kennel Gazette, it is proposed, will publish the prize lists, etc., of shows held under its rules, judges’ reports on their respective classes, and the official news of the American Kennel Club. President Belmont will provide financial support for the venture.

* * * * *

~The~ detailed report of the last American Kennel Club meeting has not been received up to the time of writing, but the telegraphed synopsis conveys news that is gratifying in the extreme.

When kennel editor of the lately defunct _Sport_, of Montreal, a case was brought to my notice which I thought demanded the fullest ventilation. It was nothing less than the fraudulent substitution of a borrowed dog for a dead one that had been entered at the Westminster Kennel Club’s Show in ’87 by a Mr. J. F. Campbell, of Montreal. I exposed the matter editorially and demanded that it should be brought before the A. K. C. for consideration. The culprit blustered, and threatened me with a suit for libel; but I was determined to see justice done, and had all the papers bearing on the case placed in the hands of a friend who “licked” them into shape, and forwarded them to an A.K.C. delegate, a friend of his, to be submitted at the earliest meeting of the club. Judgment in the case has at this last mentioned meeting been delivered, and John F. Campbell is declared suspended for one year and ordered to repay the amount of the prize-money fraudulently won by the Yorkshire terrier “Bertie,” alias “Sir Colin,” to the Westminster Kennel Club. The A. K. C. is slow, painfully slow, but in this instance it has “got there all the same.”

Last year witnessed the importation of a great number of high-class dogs. As a rule, in previous years, we have been content with buying second, third or no-class-at-all specimens in England; but not so in 1888. First, that king of all St. Bernards, the giant Plinlimmon, was exchanged for five thousand one hundred and thirteen good Yankee dollars (the highest price ever paid for a dog). Then, the hardly inferior Burns is soon to cross the pond, and Lysander and many other grand specimens of the mighty Alpine breed. The mastiffs, Orlando, Baldur and others, must not be omitted from the roll, nor the great English setters, Champion, Comet, Howard, Blue Nell and others. Gordon setters have also had added to their ranks the Champion Beaumont and his kennel mates, and the Irish setters, too, have several recruits. Nor must the many spaniels, Sussex, Field and Cocker, be forgotten.

From present indications, moreover, it would appear that we are to see other new faces from across the water on the show benches this year. Mr. E. M. Oldham, of New York, has gone to England, intent on purchasing some Black Spaniel flesh of the highest quality, especially, though low be it spoken, something with which to trail Bridford Negress’ colors in the dust. He also gives out that it is his purpose to import some Clumber Spaniels, the best obtainable; and I truly hope he will, for they are a grand breed, and are deserving of a far larger share of public favor than is at present accorded them. Our Canadian cousins have the best dogs of this breed and our State-bred specimens stand no chance in competition with them.

“Scotch” Baillie, of Lexington, Ky., has also crossed the seas, on the purchase of dogs intent. Gordon setters will probably head his string; but be on the lookout for something else. Our people are recognizing more fully each succeeding year the satisfaction to be derived from owning high-class specimens of man’s best friend. They think like an acquaintance whom I overheard say: “I love a dog, but hang it, life’s too short to waste affection on a cur, when a thoroughbred can be bought for a small outlay!”

~Dogwhip.~

OUR THEATRICAL PLAYGROUND.

THE ENGLISH EXOTIC.

Mrs. Langtry and Mrs. Potter have possession at present of the two theaters occupied immediately before their coming by Booth and Barrett, and Mary Anderson. The Langtry and the Potter are types of a class of dramatic exotics which have, of late years, come into prominence. They represent nothing in art; their schooling, teaching, and social life have tended to unfit rather than prepare them for work on the stage. If Mrs. Langtry had not obtained prominence in one way or other and as a beauty in England before she turned her attention to play-acting, no American manager would have troubled himself to introduce her to the American public as an actress. Without the notoriety she achieved abroad she never would have been accepted in this enlightened country by the theater-going public. Like a thoroughly sensible and practical woman she saw a chance to make a fortune here and took advantage of the opportunity. She is now playing to large houses at the Fifth Avenue Theater. When Booth and Barrett appeared there the attendance was not nearly so great. This fact alone speaks volumes for the artistic intelligence of American theater-goers. Make hay, Mrs. Langtry, while the sun shines!

THE AMERICAN EXOTIC.

Mrs. Potter is another type of the hot-house actress. Her great drawback is that she is an American, and Americans, though protectionists in the main, strange to say, dearly love the foreign article in the way of imported talent. It took Mrs. Potter some time to make up her mind whether or not she should adopt the stage as a profession. It was all right to be an amateur actress, but to be a professional actress was another thing. However, she finally made the plunge, and now she is a full-fledged actress of the Langtry type, without the slightest chance of making anything like the fortune the Lily has already piled up. Strangely enough Mrs. Potter succeeded Miss Anderson at Palmer’s Theater, just as Mrs. Langtry succeeded Mr. Booth at the Fifth Avenue. There is no other great city in the world where a similar state of things could exist. Edwin Booth, one of the greatest actors of his time, succeeded by Mrs. Langtry, a professional beauty, and Mary Anderson, who has won her position on the stage by earnest toil, hard work and persistent study, followed by Mrs. Potter, an amateur fledgeling of two seasons professional growth. _Miserere, Domine!_

A DRAMATIC GEM.

One of the best and most interesting plays New Yorkers have had an opportunity of enjoying for a long time is “Little Lord Fauntleroy,” as at present played at the Broadway Theater. It is a dramatic gem of the purest water, and will long continue to interest play-goers who have a taste for the refined in art in preference to the meretricious. Mrs. Burnett’s charming story has lost nothing of its beauty by its adaptation for the theater. As a novel it is interesting; as a stage story where its personages appear and take form before the footlights it is a delight.

IRISH ROMANCE.

Edward Harrigan, when he produced “The Lorgaire,” at the Park Theater, made an entirely new departure in his dramatic work. Laying aside for the time being the task of drawing pictures of New York life at the present day, he entered into the field of romance, and on Irish soil gathered together the material with which he has woven his story together. Apart from the dramas of Boucicault it is one of the best Irish plays written in years. Unlike the machine-made Irish play of the revolving stars, which are generally made up of a song, a jig, a priest and a handful of English soldiers, Mr. Harrigan has endeavored to picture an Irish story in dramatic form on the stage, as Carleton, Lever, Maxwell and Griffin sought to relate their tales as story-tellers in their books. If “The Lorgaire” did not catch the fancy of theater-goers as quickly as “a local” might have done, that is nothing to be wondered at. The new drama offered at the Park will enhance Mr. Harrigan’s reputation both as a writer and a player.

ENGLISH REALITY.

Pinero has written many good things for the stage, and though they may not live much beyond the present day, they are as enjoyable as anything we have in contemporaneous dramatic literature. “Sweet Lavender,” the latest of Mr. Pinero’s works, is now in the full tide of success at the pretty Lyceum Theater. It well deserves the victory it has won. Mr. Le Moyne, who plays the part of a good-hearted old barrister, with a fondness at times for his cups, is the best thing that accomplished actor has ever attempted. It is not, however, Mr. Le Moyne’s acting or the acting of any particular member of the Lyceum Theatre Company which wins approval. It is the decidedly English atmosphere of the work--the setting, scenes, properties, business and everything connected with the play--that shows with what care “Sweet Lavender” was prepared; and with such preparation it is not a matter of surprise that the public crowd the little theater to take a look at this picture from nature.

REAL GAIETY.

As intimated in a previous number of ~Outing~, the London Gaiety Company, with Nellie Farren as the bright particular star of the organization, has made a deep impression on American theater-goers. The feeling entertained by some people that Miss Farren and her ways, and the ways of the company by whom she was surrounded, were too thoroughly English to meet with recognition here, proved erroneous. The theater-goers of this city are not limited by such narrow boundaries. It was not Miss Farren’s nationality or the nationality of her company that was to undergo a test, but Nellie Farren and the London Gaiety Burlesque Company as artists. With a burlesque not adapted for an American audience--for “Monte Cristo, Jr.” is anything but bright in dialogue--they won the favors of New Yorkers. Even with the disadvantage of a poor book, they succeeded in convincing the public they could act, and dance and sing themselves into appreciation as burlesquers. Moreover the Gaiety Company did not rely wholly on the ability of Nellie Farren and Fred Leslie for all the supply of burlesque entertainment as is too often the case with such organizations. After a short trial, New Yorkers rather fancied the new comers, and toward the end began to regard them as favorites. The success of the return visit of the London Gaiety Company to the United States is pre-assured, notwithstanding the movement of Louis Aldrich, Harley Merry, and others.

~Richard Neville.~

~A breath~ of warm summer air seems to dispel for a moment the cold rawness of the winter day, as one turns over the pages of that most exquisitely executed volume of French drawings--“Plages de Bretagne et Jersey,” by “Mars,” (Paris: E. Plon, Nourrit et Cie.). Intensely Gallic are these drawings, and just as dainty and attractive as one would expect from the clever artist whose work they are. The bathing-dresses of Trouville are no longer strangers to these shores; but it seems as if the book fairly teems with suggestions for the amphibious maiden preparing for a summer campaign by the sea.

* * * * *

~A really~ remarkable novel, with a purpose, and that purpose strongly defined, is “Dr. Ben,” by Orlando Witherspoon (Boston: Ticknor & Co. 1888). The existence of the purpose, instead of decreasing the interest of the book by dwarfing the other incidents, in this case only heightens and increases its power. The plot is strengthened by its existence, and the story fairly abounds in incident, thrilling enough to satisfy the most insatiate novel-reader. It is extremely sensational, but the character-sketching, humor and pleasing style suffice to relieve the book of the brand of morbid sensationalism. The utmost sympathy is evoked by Ben’s character, his misfortunes, and his ultimate recovery, and the fascination exercised is so intense that scarcely one reader will lay the book down without finishing it, and what is more, carrying off an impression vivid enough to last for years.

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~Nothing~ marks the increased popularity and importance of the cycle more than the rapid growth of its literature. “Rhymes of the Road and River,” by Chris. Wheeler (Philadelphia: E. Stanley Hart & Co.), is a volume to meet with a ready acceptance from every lover of the wheel and oar. The author shows his genuine ardor for these sports in every page, and imbues the products of his pen with this spirit. The comic poems strike us as particularly good, even though in some the author prove untrue to his first love, as, in “The Lay of a Recreant,”

“Two within a buggy, boys, behind a trotting mare,
The devil take the bicycle that can with that compare!”

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~To~ cyclists the modest, unpretentious account of a really noteworthy cycling trip, which is contained in “Pedal and Path,” by George B. Thayer (Hartford: Evening Post Association), must have proved of considerable value, while to the outside public it cannot fail to be interesting. The distance actually traveled by wheel was 4,239 miles, and the work and fatigue undergone were extreme. Mr. Thayer tells his story in a pleasant, chatty style, well adapted to the original form his writings took--newspaper letters--and furnishing pleasant light literature in book-form. There is rather an undue amount of personalities, as regards appearance of people encountered, etc., and some few passages savor of a _naïveté_ which might prove somewhat embarrassing to a young lady reader, but these are minor faults.

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~To~ the jaded palate of the habitual novel-reader, anything new and sensational is acceptable, however wild in its conception. We should imagine, therefore, that “The Heart of Don Vega,” by Alfred Allen (Westerly, R. I.: George G. Champlin, 1888), will meet with considerable appreciation among a certain class. Novelty, sensationalism, horrors and tragedies abound in the little volume, and are withal strung into a very readable story.

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~Among~ the best books for the benefit of the younger members of society are the following published by Messrs. Lee & Shepard, Boston: “Up the North Branch” forms the fourth volume of the Lake and Forest Series, by Capt. Charles A. J. Farrar, and is an exciting narrative of sport and adventure in the wilds of Maine. It is bound to hit the fancy of every boy. “Biding His Time,” by J. T. Trowbridge, is a story of the adventures and subsequent good fortune of a poor Ohio lad. “Mother Goose’s Melodies” and “Songs of Our Darlings” are cheap and well printed collections of old familiar nursery rhymes. “The Readings from the Waverley Novels”--edited by Albert F. Blaisdell, A.M., are a capital selection of just such passages as will catch the youthful fancy.

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~A day-book~ of pretty thoughts, strengthened by scriptural quotations, is to be found in “Pansies for Thoughts,” from the writings of “Pansy”--Mrs. G. R. Alden--compiled by Grace Livingston. (Boston: D. Lothrop & Co.). The selections are apt and happy, while the appearance of the little volume is most charming.

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~The~ holiday number of “Sun and Shade” (Brooklyn: The Photo-Gravure Co.) is extremely handsome. The reproductions are a marvel of art, that of Raphael’s “Madonna della Sedia” being particularly striking, while “See-Saw,” by John Morgan, makes a most charming picture.

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~Pithy~ and appropriate sentiments are found in the little pamphlet, “Stray Notes from Famous Musicians,” compiled by G. H. C. (Boston: Oliver Ditson & Co.). No page can be opened without some tersely worded truth impressing itself on the mind.

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~The~ volume of music, entitled “Classic Tenor Songs” (Boston: Oliver Ditson & Co.), is one which fully justifies its title. It will prove a valuable addition to the existing collections of songs for male voices.

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~A capital~ specimen of what can be done in compiling a university record is afforded by “The Yale Banner,” Louis L. Barnum, editor and publisher. The make up of the volume is all that can be desired, and the portrait groups form an interesting feature.

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~We~ have received the “American Newspaper Annual” for 1888, issued by N. W. Ayer & Son, Philadelphia. It forms an extremely complete volume, and is of great service to advertisers.

SHE ONLY SHOOK HER HEAD.

“Dear Madge, you’re the joy of my heart,
And the pride of my life!
Please name the near day
You’ll be my true wife.”
But she only shook her head,
(A blonde head)
And said, “Nay, nay, I cannot wed.”

(In a season or so,
As I’ve reason to know,
She went to Pau,
And married
A lord,
Or an earl,
Or a count.)

“Dear Kate, _you’re_ the joy of my heart,
And the pride of my life!
Pray name the dear day
You’ll be my fond wife.”
But she only shook her head,
(An auburn head)
And said, “Nay, nay, I cannot wed.”

(In a season or so,
As I’ve reason to know,
She, too, went to Pau,
And married
A duke,
Or a prince,
Or a king.)

“Dear Fan, you _are_ the joy of my heart,
And the pride of my life!
Now, sweet, name the day
You’ll be my dear wife.”
But she, too, shook her head
(A darling head),
And said--Nay, nay, I’ll not tell you what she said,
Only this: a month from to-morrow we wed.

N.B.--(’Tis the joy of my heart
And the pride of my life
That I lost Madge and Kate
And got Fan for a wife.)

_A. A. P._

~The~ acclimatization of the wild turkey has been tried with great success in Austria. Count Breuner, on his estate at Graffeneck, turned down three males and four females with the result that there is now a flock of 580. In addition, some 150 have been shot on neighboring estates. The largest weight yet recorded is 19 pounds.

* * * * *

~A curious~ incident is reported from England. The Catswold hounds, Gloucestershire, recently found three foxes, and after a good run two foxes at once were killed at a place called Postlip.

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~According~ to report, Prince Henri de Bourbon and the Princess, who are traveling in India as the Comte and Comtesse de Bardi, have been badly hoaxed by some person or persons, who are alleged to have given them tame tigers and cows to shoot. The cows one can understand, but tame tigers! Such may be found in the possession of dervishes in temples, but we doubt if any are available for turning out and shooting. A tiger so tame as that would be worth several hundred pounds to any circus proprietor.

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~The~ London _Sunday Times_ publishes the following from its New York correspondent:

“One of the rarest and finest specimens of big game ever mounted has recently been presented by Mr. Royal Carroll to a Fifth Avenue club, where it hangs over the mantel in the smoking-room. It is the head of a Harris deer, which Mr. Carroll recently shot in that part of Africa made famous by Rider Haggard’s novels. The deer is jet black, save only his face and ears, stood 14.2, weighed 400 pounds, has backward curving horns like the ibex, and is the only specimen of the species in this country. The glowing descriptions which Mr. Carroll gives of his adventures with big game in the jungles of India and the forests of Africa have given considerable impetus to a department of sport in which we have permitted our English cousins to far outstrip us, and several expeditions similar to Mr. Carroll’s are now being planned.”

* * * * *

~Lieut.-General Burton~, in “An Indian Olio,” refers to the increasing scarceness of large game in India. After pointing out how the intrusion of the railway with the “diabolical screech of the steam whistle,” and “the demoralizing puff and snort of the rushing engine,” and the “evil odor of coal gas” penetrating the forest, acts upon such shy animals as the bison, he shows what the natives have to do with it. “Guns have of late years come much more generally into use with the natives. Where there was, fifty years ago, perhaps only one matchlock, a venerable flint musket, in a village, there are now a dozen, and natives have got much more into the habit of killing game--the eatable animals for food, the fierce and dangerous beasts (potted from a safe shelter) for the Government reward. I knew a party of natives go out under supervision, in fact, in pay of Brahmin (save the mark), with a big jingal, or wall piece, carried between two of them, until they came upon the fresh tracks of a herd of elephants. They then crept to within ten or fifteen paces and tied the jingal, ready loaded, and laid for the biggest elephant, to a tree trunk, lighted a slow match and retired to a safe distance. Presently the great weapon, which had been pointed straight for the vitals, behind the shoulder of the elephant, exploded with a report like that of a small cannon echoing through the forest.”

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~Among~ the features of New York life which particularly strike the visitor is the extreme elegance and luxury of the Hoffman House baths. The comfort of indulging in a thorough cleansing after the inevitable discomforts of travel, whether by sea or land, is sufficient to induce every traveler to visit them. But, moreover, residents of Gotham find that nothing so conduces to general health, or is so efficient a foe to rheumatism, neuralgia, or other “evils that the flesh is heir to,” as the Turkish bath. The result is that one and all fly to this, the best appointed establishment of the kind in the city.

* * * * *

~Everybody~ is going to Paris this year to the Exposition, and in this age of progress it is no great undertaking to cross the ocean, nor is one compelled to forego many comforts while traveling. True, some dissatisfaction is expressed from time to time at the want of proper accommodations in English hotels. This criticism does not apply, however, to the magnificent _Hotel Metropole_ in London, which has already come under the favorable notice of many Americans, and is fast making new friends. Situated conveniently to the business portion of the city, while at no great distance from society’s haunts, it furnishes home comforts to the weary traveler, and affords every possible convenience and luxury.

An equally excellent and not less pretentious “hostelry” is the magnificent _Victoria Hotel_, one of the finest hotel buildings in the world, and conducted in a manner sure to please the American tourist. Its large number of patrons speak of it in terms of the highest praise. At either house rooms may be secured by cable from New York. We would advise tourists in 1889 to make sure of their apartments certainly by telegram from their landing-places in Britain.

~The~ following communication will have much interest, especially to our college readers:

The December number of ~Outing~ says: “The first game of football in the United States was played in New Haven, in 1840, between the class of ’42 and ’43 of Yale College.” I am a graduate of the class of ’28. Immediately after the opening of the fall term in 1824, the then Freshman class were summoned to a class meeting, at which they were informed that by an established custom from time immemorial it devolved on the Freshman class to furnish footballs for the use of the college. The time-honored custom was recognized at once by the class and by every succeeding Freshman class during my student life. The games were played on the upper part of the public square directly in front of the college. There were frequent contests between the two lower classes; but the great games, played as often as convenience and weather allowed, were contested by the whole body of the students, divided into two parties known respectively as “North Entries” and “South Entries.” There were then standing on the college campus four dormitory buildings, each having two halls or entries. Those students who roomed in a north entry, or if rooming anywhere north of the central building, known then as now as the Lyceum, were on one side; the rest of the students were on the other. Those were famous games, where three or four hundred men engaged in earnest contest. The long-used ground was necessarily abandoned when the civil authorities decided, in 1828, to build the State House upon it.

~Yalensis Sexagenarius.~

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_To the Editor of_ ~Outing~:

~Dear Sir~,--I was extremely pleased to note in your Open Window of the January edition that a word was spoken in behalf of rabbit coursing. Since the late cases at Hempstead an intolerable amount of nonsense has been written in the daily and weekly publications, and wholesale condemnation has been meted out to this sport, presumably by people who have never seen coursing, either with greyhounds or terriers. Those who have will, I feel sure, join with me in affirming that there is certainly no more cruelty in one sport than another; as is the greyhound to the hare or jack rabbit, so is the terrier to the ordinary rabbit, and in both cases the chance of escape is, in truth, but very small. But in rabbit coursing, as usually practiced in England, the rabbits are both found and coursed on their “native heath,” and therefore they have a very considerable advantage. I am not, however, trying to defend this or any other sport from the imputation of cruelty, for in every field-sport, properly so called, cruelty must exist. What better antidote exists to the emasculating tendencies of our boasted nineteenth century civilization? Or, who will contend that the natural propensity of the Englishman, as affirmed by the French, “to go out and kill something,” has not had much to do in placing the old country in her present position? I fail to see, myself, why the imputation of cruelty, which every journalist seems to be trying to fix on rabbit coursers, should not equally well apply to a man who will fire a gun at a partridge or pheasant. But with the curious logic of the present day, such is by no means the case. In conclusion, I must apologize for trespassing so far on your space, and heartily congratulate ~Outing~ on having spoken bravely on the matter. It is too frequently the case that where one publication leads, the others follow like a flock of sheep. Yours respectfully,

~An Old-Time Sportsman~.

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_To the Editor of_ ~Outing~: