I.

HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

By J. MOTT HALLOWELL.

[Illustration: ~The Harvard Boat-houses.~]

At Harvard, and at nearly all other American colleges, athletics are managed on a plan entirely different from that adopted by most of the amateur athletic associations of this country. As a rule, an athletic association has control of all contests played upon its grounds, track and field athletics, boating, football, baseball, and all other games; but at Cambridge, the origin and growth of each branch of athletics has been so distinct in itself, and has had so little direct connection with the development of the others, that, as a result, each athletic sport is managed by a separate organization--the Harvard University Boat Club managing the boating interests, the Baseball Club taking care of the nine, while the Athletic Association has control only of the winter meetings in the gymnasium and the track and field meetings out of doors.

Of all the Harvard athletic clubs the Athletic Association deserves first mention as the club which each year opens the athletic season. If on the first Saturday in March, a little after one o’clock in the afternoon, a stranger should happen to pass by the Hemenway Gymnasium, his attention would be attracted by an incongruous, closely packed crowd, patiently waiting upon the porch and steps. There are small boys with pennies tightly clasped in closed fists, poking their elbows into the sides of the “sport,” who is jotting down his last entry in the book he has just made up on to-day’s games; a few of the ubiquitous unwashed muddying the nicely polished shoes of some dainty youths with big canes and high collars, and even a few poorly clad individuals of studious mien, with perhaps a book under one arm, who look as if they had crowded into the press in order to keep warm, in marked contrast to the contented looking men, wrapped in large ulsters and leisurely puffing cigars, who stand just at the edge. The crowd is jolly--swaying, jostling, and cracking its jokes, while it eagerly waits till the doors are opened to swarm into the gymnasium; for this afternoon is held the first winter meeting of the Athletic Association. Presently, by the time the first sparrers or wrestlers appear in the ring, every seat is filled, and even standing room whence can be had a view of the contestants.

This meeting is but one of seven that the Athletic Association holds every year; two field meetings, the class games and university games held every fall and every spring, and three winter meetings held in the gymnasium. In 1873 the Athletic Association had not been formed, and the only gymnasium for the use of the students was a wretched little structure now used as a storehouse; now the Association leads all the other colleges in its records, owns a hard cinder quarter-mile track, and has the use of one of the best gymnasia, if not the best, in America.

In July, 1874, at Saratoga, was held the first intercollegiate athletic meeting between American colleges. Due notice of this meeting had been sent round to the leading colleges, and the interest aroused by the proposed contest led to the first athletic meeting at Cambridge. A notice appeared in the Harvard _Advocate_ that, if sufficient interest was felt by the students, some athletic sports would be held in the Jarvis Field on the afternoon of Wednesday, June 17th. The program was to consist of a mile running race, a mile walking race, a one hundred yards dash, a three hundred yards dash, a running high jump, running long jump, and a three-legged race; the entrance fee of 50 cents was to be used in purchasing cups for prizes, and the notice ended with an appeal to the students to give the games their generous support, so that the college might be enabled to select representative men to send to the intercollegiate games at Saratoga. No notice of the result of these games appeared in the college papers, but their success was sufficient to encourage four men to enter the Saratoga games, where they succeeded in winning last place in most of their events, none of their records being taken. The undergraduates seemed to have been stirred up by this signal defeat, and in the fall of 1874 the Harvard Athletic Association was formed for the purpose of encouraging track and field athletics--unknown factors in college games at that time--in order that the college might be fitly represented in intercollegiate contests.

It is strange in the present period of great athletic interest, crowded athletic meetings, and Faculty restrictions, to recall those days only fifteen years ago, when the undergraduate had to be encouraged to interest himself in athletic games. An editorial in the college paper in the winter of 1874-5, speaking of the formation of the Association, says: “While the bodies of the men now at the university do not receive a tithe of the attention they ought, it is cheering to note that more is being done towards inviting that attention than ever before. In no other exercise than baseball and rowing has there been any emulation, and never a general and systematic using of any set of muscles sustained throughout the year. The average student has been physically what he is now. At entering, President Eliot describes him as of ‘undeveloped muscle, a bad carriage and an impaired digestion, without skill in out-of-door games, and unable to ride, row, swim or shoot.’ During his four or six years, short of a little spasmodic work now and then, he does little towards becoming anything else, and with just that body and most of these defects he starts into his life’s work; and with growing labor and care, and little time to look after his body, and no one by to spur him to it, that is just about the sort of body he goes through life with, generally losing rather than gaining vigor and power. A new door has been opened for the men who really mean to be what they ought physically, and it is pleasant to see already signs of a brisk rivalry in this direction. The legs--long neglected members--are now to be put to their best, and at last we have the various foot contests so well known in the British universities. They began last fall, and the work done then was so little above mediocrity that there is strong ground to hope for new winners in May. All the running was slow, the jumping poor, and the walking nothing much.”

The Association when first formed was very primitive. Only about a couple of hundred men belonged to it; members were given tickets of admission to the games, which they could present to their friends, while the admission fee, entitling a person to a life-membership and free admission to all games ever held by the Association was only two dollars. Gradually, as the games grew in importance, and interest increased, the expenses of the Association became heavier; a track costing about $600 was laid out on Jarvis Field; the necessary expenses incurred in the winter meetings, held in the little gymnasium for the first time in 1876, added an annual increase of expenditure (the tickets of admission were then given away by members), until at last the expedient was adopted of laying an assessment of fifty cents on all members except Freshmen. The task of collecting this proved so great, that, of the collectors appointed, some resigned, while the others confessed their inability to proceed further.

[Illustration: THE HEMENWAY GYMNASIUM.]

In 1879 the Harvard Athletic Association, as well as the other athletic clubs, received a great stimulus in the erection of the Hemenway Gymnasium, the gift of Mr. Augustus Hemenway. Fifty years before, an attempt had been made to found a gymnasium out of doors in the Delta where Memorial Hall now stands, but the result had been unsuccessful. Again, in 1860, a small gymnasium was erected at the corner of Broadway and Cambridge Street, costing something less than $10,000; but this building had become entirely inadequate for the needs of the undergraduates, and in 1878 the ground was broken for the present erection. When finished, it cost, including all its apparatus, over $150,000, and is as complete as any gymnasium in the country. In the second story is a rowing-room for the crew, fitted up with hydraulic rowing-machines, while a gallery overlooking the main floor of the gymnasium makes an excellent running track. On the floor below is the gymnasium proper, fitted up with apparatus of every description, and at one side, under the rowing-room, are lockers and bath-rooms. In the basement is the “cage,” reserved for the winter practice of the nine and the lacrosse team; but room is left for nine bowling alleys, several hundred more lockers, a long open space for tug-of-war cleats, and a room for the use of fencers and sparrers.

In 1880 the management hit upon the happy expedient of setting apart one of the winter meetings in the gymnasium as a “Ladies’ Day,” on which only such events as the light gymnastics, bar performances, jumping, and light-weight sparring should be contested, the wrestling and the heavy-weight sparring being reserved for one of the other meetings. The next year another day was added as Ladies’ Day, so that only one of the meetings remained open to men alone. At first ladies were admitted free, the Association trusting to this additional attraction to fill their coffers from the pockets of the men; but after the success of Ladies’ Day was assured, the fair sex was put on an equal footing with their escorts, and have since been obliged to pay full price; indeed, they supply the principal source of revenue.

[Illustration: THE TUG-OF-WAR--“THE DROP.”]

From the date of their first admission, however, they inaugurated a war against the sparring exhibitions which occur on one of their days. From that time to the present they have continually protested against it, and just as continually have they come in crowds to see it. There is in the first President’s report (Harvard Athletic Association), after the establishment of Ladies’ Day, a notice that “the ladies ought to understand that if blood be drawn in the sparring, the men will not leave the ring as they did last year;” and again in a report two years later: “We decided last year to have light and feather weight sparring on the first Ladies’ Day, and although there was at the time much talk against it among a certain number of men, we did not find the apparent interest of the ladies in any way less, or that their number decreased from the year before, although it had been extensively advertised for more than a month that there was to be sparring, and it is not to be supposed that many of the ladies were ignorant of the fact that they were to see it. Far would it be from me to force ladies to look at any event that was distasteful to them, but I fail to see why the large number who are entertained by sparring should be deprived of seeing it in our winter meetings because certain others object to it, more especially as the latter are in no way compelled to come unless they chose to.” The “large number” has continued to come, and the sparring still continues.

The financial status of the Association was assured by the success of the winter meetings in the gymnasium, until, in time, it was able to engage a track-master and trainer for the men, so that all competitors, poor as well as rich, trying for places in the team which annually competes for the intercollegiate cup, could have an equal chance of responsible training. It was also able to contribute $1,000 towards the construction of the hard cinder track round Holmes Field, finished in 1883, and now is able to pay all the expenses of the team which competes at the intercollegiate games. Besides the annual income received from the winter games, it receives a large sum annually from its membership roll. Though the fee is but small, only $3.00 for a life-membership entitling free admission to all games, a regulation forbidding any undergraduate to be present at the games unless he is a member, annually forces nearly the entire freshman class to join.

[Illustration: THE HARVARD BASEBALL TEAM.]

There is not space in the limits of an article of this nature to mention more than a few of the men who have been connected with the rise and success of this Association. Some of them have already a world-wide athletic reputation, while many stand at the head of all college athletes. The fact that not until four years after Harvard’s entry into the Intercollegiate Athletic Association did she win the championship cup, but that then she won it for seven successive years, shows the need that existed originally in the college for such an association, besides demonstrating the success that has since attended it. Mr. E. J. Wendell, ’82, did more in his day than any one else, not only to increase its prosperity at home, but also to win laurels for it in its intercollegiate contests; and the names of Soren, Goodwin, Easton, Baker, Rogers and Wells show what strong representatives the Association has had. Out of the twenty-four first prizes that Harvard won the first four years she held the cup, W. Soren, ’83, won seven; he gained first prize in every jump in the intercollegiate program--running high, running broad, standing high and standing broad--besides the pole vault, and in the standing high jump holds the best amateur record in the world.

The following table shows the best records made under the Harvard Athletic Association in events contested at the intercollegiate games:

100 Yards Dash 10s. E. J. Wendell, ’82. 220 Yards Dash 22s. W. Baker, ’86. 440 Yards Dash 50¼s. W. Baker, ’86. Half-mile Run 1m. 59 1-5s. G. P. Coggswell, ’88. Mile Run 4m. 38 3-5s. G. B. Morison, ’83. Hurdle Race, 120 yards 17 3-5s. S. R. Bell, ’91. Hurdle Race, 220 yards 26 4-5s. G. S. Mandell, ’89. Mile Walk 6m. 59½s. H. H. Bemis, ’87. Bicycle Race (2 miles) 6m. 2½s. R. H. Davis, ’91. Running High Jump 5 ft. 10¾ in. H. L. Clark, ’87. Pole Vault 10 ft. 5-8 in. R. G. Leavitt, ’89. Throwing Hammer (16 lbs.) 93 ft. 2 in. H. B. Gibson, ’88. Putting the Shot (16 lbs.) 40 ft. 1½ in. D. B. Chamberlain, ’86. Running Broad Jump 20 ft. 10 in. W. Soren, ’83.

The following records have been made in other events:

125 Yards Dash 12 3-5s. W. Baker, ’86. 180 Yards Dash 18s. W. Baker, ’86. Two-Mile Walk 15m. 10½s. H. H. Bemis, ’87. Three-Mile Walk 24m. 24 2-5s. H. H. Bemis, ’87. Seven-Mile Walk 58m. 52s. H. H. Bemis, ’87. Standing High Jump 5 ft. 1¼ in. W. Soren, ’83.

Two days after Baker had graduated he made a record of 8s. in the 80-yard dash, 10s. in the 100-yard dash, and 47¾s. in the 440-yard dash, all three of them counting as best amateur American records; but, unfortunately, since he had received his degree, the Harvard Athletic Association cannot claim these records. W. H. Goodwin, ’84, while he was in college, also made a record of 1m. 56⅝s. in the half-mile run, but as he did not make it in college games, this record was also lost to the Harvard Athletic Association.

The tug-of-war is another event in which the Harvard Athletic Association can hold no record, but in which it has had no rival. The veteran anchor of the team, Easton, did more toward introducing science into this seemingly unskilful sport than any other collegian in the country. The amount of skill and team work cultivated in this contest at Cambridge is shown by the fact that at the last intercollegiate games, Harvard presented the class tug-of-war team of the senior class, because the men had had long experience in pulling together; and this class team defeated successively Princeton, Columbia, and Yale.

BASEBALL.

The game of baseball was first introduced into Cambridge in 1862. Until that year no ball club had existed in the college, and no record can be found of any games previously played. Baseball was brought to Cambridge from Phillips Exeter Academy, by the class which entered college from that school in 1862. “In December of that year,[3] George A. Flagg and Frank Wright, members of the then Freshmen class, and great enthusiasts over the game, established the ’66 Baseball Club. During the spring of 1863 the interest in the new game and class organization became very great, and the Cambridge city government granted a petition for leave to use that part of the Common near the Washington Elm for a practice-ground. Invitations to play were sent to many of the colleges, and among the first to the Yale class of ’66; but the latter replied that the game was not played by them, although they hoped soon to be able to meet a Harvard nine on the ball field.” A match was then arranged with the Sophomores of Brown University, and was played on June 23, 1863. This was the first intercollegiate baseball game ever played by Harvard, and resulted in the first of a long line of victories. Following is the official score of the game, a very different looking affair from our present complicated score card:

_Harvard, ’66._ _Pos._ _Outs._ _Runs._ Banker, H. 3 3 Wright, P. 1 5 Flagg, S. 5 2 Irons, A. 2 4 Fisher, B. 2 4 Greenleaf, C. 4 2 Nelson, L. 4 2 Abercrombie, M. 2 3 Tiffany, R. 4 2 -- -- 27 27

_Brown, ’65._ _Pos._ _Outs._ _Runs._ Witter, P. 1 4 Finney, H. 4 2 Brown, S. 2 1 Rees, A. 4 1 Spink, B. 2 3 Deming, C. 4 1 Brayton, L. 2 3 Judson, M. 4 1 Field, R. 4 1 -- -- 27 17

Umpire:--Miller, Lowell Club. Scorers, Harvard--J. J. Mason; Brown--H. S. Hammond.

There were but few other college clubs at this time, and in order to keep alive the interest in the game it was necessary to play an annual championship series with the strongest local amateur nine that could be found. The Lowell Club, of Boston, was then the best amateur club in that part of the country, and the Harvards chose them for their regular opponents. The games played on the Boston Common for the championship and the possession of the silver ball offered as a trophy attracted immense crowds, sometimes as many as ten thousand people; and not only was college interest aroused, but also the worthy inhabitants of Boston and Cambridge became eager and enthusiastic partisans of their respective nines.

The first games with the Lowells were played by the class nine of ’66; but in 1864 the other classes, having taken up the game, united their forces and formed the University Baseball Club. The entire control of the University nine, from its organization until the fall of 1866, was left with the catcher, Flagg, and the pitcher, Wright--the former managing the players in the field. The old ground on Cambridge Common was abandoned, and the Delta, now covered in part by Memorial Hall, was turned into a ball-field. The games with the Lowells were continued as the principal event of the season until about 1870; for practice, the nine playing against the various college and professional nines, and occasionally getting a game with George Wright’s famous old team, the Red Stockings of Cincinnati.

[Illustration: THE LAST LAP.]

In the summer of 1870 the nine spent nearly the entire vacation in an extended tour through the West, playing all the principal amateur clubs and many of the professionals, and winning forty-four out of the fifty-four games they played. Their greatest victory was over the Niagaras, in which they made 62 runs to their opponents’ 4, and 49 base hits with a total of 68, for 8 hits by the Niagaras. The latter philosophically accepted their defeat, declaring that they could not expect to play ball successfully against a nine whose reputation was comparatively world-wide. The account in a contemporary paper, of the game against the old Cincinnati Red Stockings is interesting as showing what the general opinion at that time was of Harvard’s club. The Red Stockings was the old champion nine in which the veterans George Wright, Harry Wright, Leonard and McVey first made their reputations as ball players. “Never before in the history of the Union Grounds has so exciting a struggle taken place as that of yesterday between the Harvard University and the first nine of the Cincinnati Club. We heard many intimate that if the local favorites were beaten on their own grounds, something hitherto unheard of, they preferred that the deed of baseball glory should be accomplished by the gentlemen players from Cambridge, rather than by the more dreaded professionals from the East. The game was remarkably close, the Harvards outplaying their opponents at the bat and in the field; but at a critical moment in the last innings, professional training showed its superiority over amateur excitability, and the Red Stockings won by 20 to 17.” The game at the time was considered “one of the most remarkable on record--remarkable for the inferiority both at the bat and on the field, of a club of professionals who ought on their record to defeat their amateur opponents easily. Nothing but sheer luck saved the Red Stockings from a defeat which would have been honorable because administered them by the Harvards.”

[Illustration: HARVARD INTERCOLLEGIATE ATHLETIC TEAM.]

This was what might be called the uncollegiate period of Harvard baseball, for all of Harvard’s most important games were played with other than college teams; indeed, there were none of the latter who could compete with her. From 1867 until 1874 she did not lose a single game to any college, although annually playing their best nines. Of the many crack players during this period, A. McC. Bush, ’71, stands head and shoulder’s over all others. He played in one hundred and four games, was captain for one year, and his success in that office is shown by the fact that Harvard never lost a game to an amateur club during his captaincy.[4]

There is no time to trace further the development of baseball at Harvard, and, indeed, there would be little point in doing so; for the game there has simply kept pace with its progress throughout the rest of the country. I have purposely given this short sketch of the introduction of the game to show the early importance attached to it at Cambridge, the prominent part that the latter took in introducing the game among American colleges, and the general reputation that the nine had at that time. The significant remark in the Cincinnati papers about “the gentlemen players from Cambridge,” and many other comments of a similar kind, were made at a time when Harvard played many games against professionals--a privilege now forbidden.

Up to the present date, however, the game has retained its popularity, although no longer can the college boast of seven successive years without losing an intercollegiate game. After 1874 the team gradually began to find more formidable opponents among the other colleges, especially Princeton and Yale; but, nevertheless, Harvard won the college championship in 1876, 1877, 1878, and 1879. Tyng and Ernst, the famous battery of this period, still figure in the minds of the undergraduates as traditional heroes. Then an Intercollegiate Baseball Association was formed by a large number of the colleges; but not until 1885, under the captaincy of Winslow, ’85, and with the battery work of Nichols and Allen, did Harvard again win the college championship; but then she won every one of the ten championship games, and twenty-four out of the twenty-five played during the whole season. Then followed the withdrawal from the large college league, the formation of the smaller one with Yale and Princeton, and the discomfiture of the Harvard nine by the present Yale pitcher, Stagg. If any one wishes to understand the position that baseball occupies in the college, it is only necessary to go out on Holmes Field at the annual Harvard-Yale match the day after Class Day. Games are played then which throw the old Harvard-Lowell games on Boston Common completely in the shade. A large part of the unpleasantly critical element is excluded by enclosed grounds and an admission fee; but their places are taken by thousands and thousands of enthusiasts, less critical, but even more demonstrative.

To be continued.

[Illustration]

[3] The Harvard Book, vol. ii., page 269.

[4] Most of my material on the history of baseball I have taken from an article by W. D. Sanborn, published ten years ago in the Harvard Book.--J. M. H.

A RIDE TO A RUSSIAN WEDDING.

BY C. M. LITWIN.

A friend of mine sent me, not long ago, the recently published translation of Count Tolstoï’s “The Snow Storm.” I had not read it in the original, but the translation was a good one, and this little picture of a ride in a snow-storm, drawn by a master’s hand, vividly recalled to my mind many of my traveling experiences during ten years of active service in Russia.

One of them--I don’t know why--presented itself to my mind with more persistence than the others, and I have not been able to resist the temptation of putting it on paper. I hasten to say, for fear of giving a bad opinion of myself beforehand, it will not be an account of a ride in a snow-storm, nor a description of such a storm, although I have seen many and have often felt their embraces. Who, after having read the Count’s little gem, would dare attempt a description of a snow-storm? Would it not be the same as to attempt to paint a subject treated by Rembrandt, or to mold another “Statue of Liberty?”

My tale is simply about an exciting ride taken in the winter, but early in the season, with but little snow on the ground--for Russia--while I was in a very excited state of mind over an event that was of more importance to me then than the still pending Oriental question or any other question of either hemisphere, namely, the wedding and the wedding-ball of a girl with whom we had all been, or imagined ourselves to be, a little in love. But I see that mature age is not always a sufficient safeguard against excitement, and I confess that with this glance back at those happy days I begin to feel something of that youthful nervousness, always aspiring to something, always wishing for something, and to put a check on it I begin my tale.

My headquarters were in Ladoga, the county seat of the district of the same name, in the Province of St. Petersburg. The town is situated on the Lake of Ladoga, at the mouth of the river Wolchow, which is large, but very dangerous for navigation on account of its rapids. This stream forms a link in the water-system connecting the Caspian Sea with St. Petersburg and the Baltic.

The situation of Ladoga, its streets and buildings, have little of picturesqueness, except the old church built on a slight elevation just where the river enters the lake. On the high tower of this church, almost at its summit, and on the side facing the lake, there is a niche, protected from rain and wind by a pane of glass. Within this niche is placed a picture of the Holy Mother, lighted by several lamps burning day and night. These are kept there by the donations of the fishermen and sailors, who hold the holy picture in great veneration. They look for it from afar, not only with the eagerness of a Cunarder’s captain watching through his glass for Sandy Hook or the Fastnet lights, but also as worshipers, raising their eyes and hearts to the Holy Mother with her Infant, imploring help and protection in their lives of hardship and danger; for navigation on the lake is very dangerous from undercurrents, and I have often heard marine officers say that they would rather cross the ocean than make a trip on this lake.

The town of Ladoga contains only a few thousand inhabitants, but, since it is a county seat, all the government officers, military and civil, are obliged to live there with their families. If you add the staffs of the various regiments which are stationed there in turn, and several wealthy landowners of the nobility, you can imagine that life in Ladoga is gay.

In no other country than Russia are there so many private dancing

## parties, suppers--or rather midnight dinners--and all sorts of

amusements, any one of which is, for the most part, a pretext for eating, drinking and gambling. Even among ladies, every game of cards is played for money, in a country where the paternal government says: “You cannot read; I will read for you. You cannot write; I will write for you. You cannot think; I will think for you.” Questions of public interest there are none. If there is a vacancy in an office, every one knows the Czar will make the appointment. If there is a famine, every one says the Czar will send bread; thousands will die meanwhile, but this is no matter. If there is a war, every one proclaims, “Our little father, the Czar, will beat them; our mother, Russia, is invincible; let him [the enemy] come, we will bury him under our caps.” One is only permitted to think how to win more at cards, how to eat more and not make himself ill, how to drink more and not be made drunk, although this last condition is not considered at all degrading. On the contrary, it awakens in every one charitable feelings, quite naturally, for every one expects to be drunk himself, if not to-day, then, surely, to-morrow. It is really edifying to see how a mantle of charity is thrown over one who is drunk, and how tenderly he is carried home to bed--more tenderly, indeed, than one who may have had the misfortune to slip and break his leg. But the young men do not think merely of cards, eating and drinking, although they do not lose much time before entering upon these delights, and almost all show, very early, a genius for them, probably by way of inheritance. The adherents and the advocates of the theory of inherited inebriety would find in Russia their task greatly simplified. In case of a hiatus in the genealogical record, or in case of the utter impossibility of tracing one, they would not be obliged to make a _salto mortale_ to Noah. Stretching out their fingers triumphantly, they could at once point out son, father and grandfather drunk in company.

There is, however, a time when a young man, even in Russia, thinks more of dancing and flirtation than of anything else, and when he under no circumstances would omit a dancing party or a ball, to say nothing of a wedding-ball. A wedding and a wedding-ball were on the program for the next day. I was young, recently graduated, held quite an enviable office under government, and had been chosen by the bride to hold the crown--not of diamonds, but of tinsel--over her head at the wedding ceremony during her triple promenade round the pulpit, hand in hand with her _fiancé_, which, according to the Greek rite, is a symbol of the Gordian knot.

But something still better my stars had destined for me. It was that the dear girl, just lost to all others except her husband, had selected me from a score of aspirants to lead the mazurka with her at the end of the ball. No sympathetic soul will wonder that, under these circumstances, I thought myself of no less importance for the events of the coming day than Bismarck for the Vaterland, and that while hurrying on all the necessary preparations for my personal appearance, I was plotting to prolong the mazurka at least one hour beyond the usual time.

Perhaps some one will question how it was that the honor of dancing the principal dance with the bride was bestowed on me, and not reserved for the bridegroom. Well, there were two reasons of the best kind. The first--a secret I will not tell; but the other, known to all Ladoga, was as follows: The groom’s left leg was shorter than the right. This misfortune naturally prevented him from dancing that fiery dance. Besides this, he belonged to that body of dignitaries entrusted by the Father of all Russia with the power of deciding the fate of poor delinquents, no matter in what category. Russia has her points of etiquette. Was it possible for such a dignitary to hop for hours through a mazurka? Certainly not. Even if both his legs had been of the same length, he could not have done it, for his shoulders were already loaded with a terrible weight of responsibility. To please his own humane heart, and to please all the living steps above him, up to the highest, who--no matter what Roman numeral is appended to his name--is considered to be endowed with the most humane heart of all, our dignitary had often to decide a question, frequently put to Russian rulers: which penalty would be the most humane, several thousand strokes of the knout, under which the sufferer might possibly die; or twenty years in the mines, where he would probably die?

Now, since this subject is at present so eloquently presented before the world in a work--for which, oh, so many thousands of hearts are praying that it may bring the same blessed results as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”--I will only say that my bridegroom, being in a constant dilemma himself on that point, carried his neck bent forward in addition to his mismatched legs.

The evening before the wedding and the ball my preparations were all accomplished to my satisfaction. My new uniform, new epaulets, new boots, fitting so tightly that I could scarcely walk in them, but made to my special order by the most reliable shoemaker in Ladoga, new white gloves--in one word, everything new--lay spread about in my room on tables and chairs. Imagine, then, my dismay, when, at five o’clock in the evening, I received a dispatch ordering me to go at once on a very important service to a place at a distance of ninety-six versts (about sixty miles) from Ladoga.

In spite of my own excited anticipation of to-morrow’s enjoyment, I must say that I was more tormented by the thought of the disappointment of the poor girl. What would she think? What would she feel? Would she not even consider my absence as a bad omen for all her future life? To be absent! No, even for the Czar’s sake I was incapable of such treachery. But what could I do? To report myself sick was impossible, for in that case I could not appear at the ball. Delay was out of the question. I was obliged to go. Fortunately I could calculate upon performing my duties there before noon of the next day, and it only remained to be sure if I could make the journey with the speed of the wind. But I would not allow any obstacles to give me uneasiness. I knew I could make the 192 versts easily in nineteen hours, and having twenty-seven hours before me, I calculated upon having plenty of time, both for the business and the journey.

So, without losing any time, I packed what was necessary for the trip, sent at once for the post-horses, and ran to communicate the bad news to my partner. As I anticipated, she was much startled, but by giving her the most solemn promises that I would return _coûte que coûte_ in time for the ball, at eight o’clock the next evening, I succeeded in calming her.

As I have mentioned before, it was in the beginning of winter, so I traveled in a sleigh. I left Ladoga at half-past six in the evening, and arrived at my destination about three o’clock in the morning, without any accident. Ordering at the post station a _samovar_, I made tea for myself, drank several cups, gave orders that I should be aroused at six in the morning, and without undressing, wrapped myself in my fur cloak, and, pushing under my head my leather traveling pillow, fell asleep on the station sofa.

I was aroused punctually as I had ordered at six, and after the blessing of Russia--the _samovar_--had fulfilled its morning duty, I hastened to mine. As I said, I had fully decided to rid my hands of the unwelcome business in a very few hours, but I counted without my host. Some individuals who were called as witnesses, but had not in view a wedding hop, arrived late, and the village authorities, who could not guess the reason of my feverish zeal in the Czar’s service, moved and acted with the habitual slowness and apathy of the Russian peasant. In short, it was already one o’clock in the afternoon when the last document was duly signed, witnessed, and packed in my portfolio. I rushed into my furs and through the door, before which the _trojka_ had been standing for more than an hour, the horses and the _jamszczyk_ shivering with the cold, and the bells tinkling.

I threw myself into the low, spacious sleigh, well filled with straw, and shouted to the _jamszczyk_:

“_Poszol!_” (Go.)

A promise of one ruble if he would make the next station, a distance of sixteen versts, in one hour, did not fail to produce the desired effect. The horses, stimulated by the wild shouts of the _jamszczyk_, and by the whip, on the end of which stuck the promised ruble, ran, as the French say, _ventre à terre_, and the next village was reached at but seven minutes past two.

The day was clear, but a strong northwester, blowing fiercely, made the air bitterly cold. Snow having fallen some few days previously, the road was excellent, and my only fear was that I might fail to find horses at some station. In this case there would be no help. Every one, even the Governor-general himself, if he arrives unexpectedly, must wait till the return of the first span, and till the regulation two hours for feeding the exhausted beasts passes away. But, trusting to my good luck, and still more to the secret prayers of my partner in the mazurka, I drove such gloomy anticipations as far as possible from my mind.

The _starosta_ met me at the door of the station, which was at the same time his house, invited me to enter and to warm myself with a cup of tea. I declined, and having no heart to ask the question dreaded by each traveler: “Are the horses at hand?” said that I was in a great hurry and wished to go at once. He said, “All right!” and I entered the room resolving to be polite and patient, knowing by experience that in many cases politeness and patience produce more effect than shouting and commands. Besides this, I was sure my former driver would not fail to tell his comrades that I was a “good fare.” Scarcely ten minutes had passed when the _starosta_ came in, announcing: “The horses are ready.”

With a light heart I hurried out, but my satisfaction was a little checked by seeing that instead of three horses there were only two. I asked the _starosta_ for the reason, and received the answer that all the _jamsczyks_ were out, and that he would send his own boy, whom he could not risk with a _trojka_. At the same moment a little bit of a chap came out of the _izba_. He was not more than twelve years old, but looked bright and smart: he was dressed in the full costume of a genuine _jamszczyk_, and held in his hand his short whip, which he snapped with the air of a connoisseur. Approaching the horses deliberately, he walked round them, and imitating in every movement an old _jamszczyk_, he began to examine and to try by shaking the different parts of the harness, showing an especial fondness for the big bell hanging over the head of the horse in the shafts. He was evidently convincing himself that everything was in order for the event--so important for him--of driving a real officer with a star on his cap, instead of a simple peasant-delegate. Meanwhile the _starosta_ helped me into the sleigh, seated me on my leather cushion, and piled heaps of straw round my legs and feet, pressing it so that it was impossible for me to move. As the cold was increasing, I abandoned myself to his tender care, which I could but consider as a mark of atonement for the missing third horse.

Everything being ready, I said “Go!” and the little boy, faithful to the end to the great rôle he was performing, took off his big cap, crossed himself hastily thrice--as every Russian does before any important, doubtful or dangerous occasion--seized the reins, threw himself coquettishly on the front edge of the sleigh, leaving his short legs hanging out, and in the manner of a well-bred _jamszczyk_, turned toward me his merry face, without disturbing his acrobatic posture, and asked, “Are you ready, sir?”

I gave a nod with my head just sticking out from the big collar of my fur coat, and the _starosta_ said, “With God, Vaniusha [Johnny], and take care.” Vaniusha replied, “All right!” and addressing the horses, sang out with his silvery voice, “Eh, you, my little doves!” The doves started, the bells jingled, and off we went.

Now, I must confess that in my heart I was wickedly glad to have for a driver a child; “_cet âge est sans pitié_,” as the great fabulist has said, and I knew he would not spare the little doves, even without the one ruble _pour boire_.

The village being situated on a steep hill, the road from the station went rapidly down at a grade which could delight only a tobogganist. Besides this the road was not wide, and was bordered with _izbas_ and fences on both sides. The passers-by greeted Vaniusha, and the village belles, attracted by the sounds of our chime, peeped out of the windows. That the little rogue, being well aware of the general admiration, felt himself in the seventh heaven, and was as proud as a peacock, he proved by an impatience which brought us both within a hair’s breadth of a bad end.

Not waiting to reach the plains, he began to tickle the tender parts of the side horse with his short whip. The tickled horse, knowing very well there are no flies in winter, instead of using his tail for self-protection, used his leg and kicked fiercely. Unfortunately, during this performance, the whiffle-tree became entangled in his legs. There is no difference between the animals of a civilized and an uncivilized country, and every one can easily guess what happened. The kicks were redoubled; and the shaft-horse, alarmed by his neighbor’s

## actions, kicked too, and both started on a wild race. The frightened

Lilliputian dropped the lines and grasped the sleigh with both hands. I had no time to seize the reins before the sleigh tipped over. I was imprisoned in my seat by the straw tightly packed round my feet, so my body was forced to follow all the zigzags of the half-overturned sleigh, dragged furiously downward by the runaway “doves,” which seemed, indeed, to possess wings.

How long this lasted I cannot tell, for, thanks to the concussions that I received, and the dizzy speed in such an unaccustomed position, I lost all consciousness.

When I came to my senses I found myself stretched on the road. Hastening to get on my feet as quickly as I could, I began to examine myself, and was very glad to find everything all right.

I heard shouts of men running toward me, and perceived at some distance behind me the poor boy, now without his whip and without his big cap, standing in the middle of the road, bitterly crying and nursing one hand tenderly with the other. Far ahead spasmodic sounds of a bell resounded, and turning in that direction I saw my horses running round a mill which stood isolated beyond the village, just as if they had been performing a chariot-race at a circus.

I rushed to the boy and asked what was the matter. His pitiful sobs did not permit him to utter a single word, and I was afraid he had broken his arm.

Meanwhile the _starosta_ and a crowd of _moujiks_ reached us. Little Johnny was brought into the nearest _izba_ and undressed. A careful examination by a _znachar_ (village quack), fortunately present in the crowd, having been made, I was glad to learn from the mouth of the oracle that the bones were sound, though the wrist was sprained.

Several _moujiks_, who had run to catch the horses, brought them to the door, and my gun, portfolio, and other things scattered on the road were soon recovered.

This restored me to my full consciousness, and I exclaimed, “The mazurka!”

Without losing a moment, I thrust my hand into my pocket, gave to the still sobbing Vaniusha a “blue” (five paper rubles), and, addressing the _starosta_, said that I must go on at once.

The _starosta_, whose conscience now pricked him doubly for having economized on the third horse (for use of which he had already pocketed the post-fare), and for trusting a life precious to the Czar’s service to such childish hands, declared at once that he would drive himself. The station-house being now a half-mile away, not to lose time, he snatched, without much ceremony, from the nearest bystanders, things necessary to protect him from the cold, and we started.

Although this occurrence made me lose more than a half-hour, each minute of which was precious to me, I rendered thanks from my heart to Providence for my preservation from having my head split in two on a fence or on the corner of an _izba_.

The wind increased constantly, and snow began to fall and to melt on my nose, so I wrapped myself closely in my furs, and, feeling some fatigue from the excitement, sat perfectly quiet. Not so my driver. At first he was as still as a mouse, probably fearing or expecting some strongly flavored words from me, which he was sure he had deserved; but, seeing me so quiet, his own feelings began to wander in other directions. He grew angry. Had he not enough reason? His poor boy injured, and himself, instead of sitting in a warm _izba_ and sipping tea, obliged to perform the duty of a _jamszczyk_. Who was guilty of all this? Certainly the doves, and to them he now turned all his attention. The whip, being now in the paternal hands, began to perform the paternal duty of bygone times. The doves could make no mistake this time about flies or mosquitoes, and had no time to kick. They ran at the top of their speed.

As it always was, and probably always will be--the one suffers, the other rejoices. So the doves suffered and I rejoiced as they devoured the space, and I flew with the speed of a state messenger bearing to the White Czar the news of a new victory of his army. In less time than any tip could have brought it about, we reached the next village, and, without any delay, I proceeded farther. The next stage was a long one, twenty-two versts, and the road led through the woods. Once in the woods, the wind could not be felt so severely. Darkness was coming on, and I felt sleepy. Moving hither and thither on my seat, and sliding down a little, I fell into quite a comfortable position and began to doze. My dreams, which constantly represented to my mind a brilliantly lighted hall, with its peculiarly scented atmosphere and incoherent rustle, all the beauties in their ball-dresses, and my still more beautiful partner of the mazurka, were interrupted by a sense of the cessation of motion, and by a voice saying, “_Barin_ [sir], eh, _Barin!_ do you see?”

“What is there?”

“Wolves!”

Indeed, straining my eyes to pierce the darkness, I perceived in the distance some points of light moving to and fro. I could hear indistinct howlings, too.

“The deuce!” thought I “what shall we do now?”

It seemed to me strange to meet, at this season, with a pack of wolves. The frosts had only begun, the snow was not deep, and generally these beasts venture out of their retreats only when driven by hunger. But I knew very well, too, that in such an encounter the most dangerous thing is to stop or to retreat. Even wolves respect courage. So, seizing my double-barreled gun, I said to the _jamszczyk_, “Go! go fast, but steadily, and do not stop under any circumstances.”

He started, but soon stopped again. Seeing that mildness would have no effect here, I applied to his head the strongest argument that I could, not neglecting, in spite of the darkness, to hit with my fist the lurking-place of his nerve of courage, indicated by Lavater. This plan worked, and, with the flash of an electric transmitter, he passed on the blow to the running nerves of the horses. They flew. The _jamszczyk_ thrashed them without mercy, the bells jingled madly, and I, holding my gun in both hands, tried at the same time, by all possible means, not to tumble out of the sleigh. The points of light grew nearer, the howlings became more distinct, but it seemed to me as if it were dogs.

So it proved. Soon we came on a gypsy camp.

It was after seven in the evening when we reached the next station, and I had only one more before me. Being obliged to wait some time for fresh horses, and seeing that it would be impossible to arrive at the very beginning of the ball, I began to grow restless in spite of the conviction that the dear girl would never doubt my intentions, and would not pout her charming lips by way of punishing me for the moments of suspense.

At last the horses were announced, and I could proceed, but a new disappointment was in store for me. The horses, being still tired from a previous trip, showed themselves provokingly obedient to the regulation speed, and all my own and the _jamszczyk’s_ efforts to urge them on proved useless. It was half-past nine when we reached the Wolchow. I think I have forgotten to say that my route being on the right side of the river, which was not yet frozen, I had to cross it. There was no bridge, and I think there never will be. Communication being made by a ferryboat, built and handled on the ante-diluvian principles, but quite safe in calm weather, I had now to cross the river on it once more. Generally it takes half an hour for the floating apparatus to make each trip, but I was prepared for this.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the ferryman--a weather-beaten ex-fisherman--who knew the lake and the river as well as his own five fingers, announced that the ferryboat was on the other side, and in such weather it could not cross the river.

Having made the last half of my way almost entirely through the woods, I was not aware of the increased fury of the elements. But now, jumping from the sleigh and approaching the river, I could convince myself of its condition.

Indeed it was an ugly sight. The wind blowing a gale, and coming from the lake, stopped the current of the river and raised its water. Not only white-caps, but whole mountains of waves were rolling in fiercely, throwing foam and spray high in the air. I saw there was no use even in promising a kingdom for a ferry. My feelings fell to a point below zero. So near to my goal, and at the same time so far from it! Nevertheless, I turned to the ferryman and asked him if there was no other way to cross the river. He said if I wished he would take me over in his little dory. I had noticed the little nutshell before, and always wondered how it could carry such a big sail without tipping over. But to think of it now! The bold proposal of the tar made me shudder. It was true that I might expect to be drowned that night, but though the Wolchow bubbled, sparkled and foamed, better than the driest product of the famous widow--it was not champagne.

Again I questioned the man whether there were no other means for crossing. He replied that, if I insisted upon it, I could have the large rowboat, adding that there were some men, who had already waited several hours in the ferry-house, to whom he had refused the boat, but that an officer must be accommodated, and that he was sure they would be glad to row me and themselves over.

I hastened to the shabby ferry-house, and found the company scattered about the floor asleep. Arousing them as quickly as I could, I explained to them the situation.

They were four in all--two peddlers and two peasants. Unanimously I was proclaimed captain, and we went to the boat at once.

I took the seat at the stern and seized the rudder. One of the peddlers took one oar, one of the peasants took the other. The second peddler, still half asleep, tumbled into the dancing boat, and we only waited for the remaining countryman.

What was my astonishment when I perceived him dragging something that did not wish to go? What was it? What new passenger? Before he reached the boat, however, I could guess by the squeals and peculiar noises which my ear caught amid the howling of the wind and the roaring of the river, that it was a pig.

Now, this was too much. My very epaulets revolted against such a thing. To go on a perilous expedition in company with a pig, and, if successful, to divide the honors with the pig!

I protested hotly. The owner of the pig implored, and the crew--true to tradition--revolted against the captain and voted for the pig.

What could I do? The chances were equal. Without me they could not have the boat; without them I could not manage it.

Fortunately at that critical moment--for to resist would be to lose the mazurka, and to yield to lose authority, and heaven knows of what those Tartars would not be capable in case of danger, once in the middle of the stream!--a brilliant idea struck me. I have acknowledged already my ignorance of nautical principles, but I had read in my boyhood, like every one else, some piratical novels, and the idea of ballast flashed through my mind.

The pig would be our ballast! And with this in view, I ordered the men to bind the pig’s legs and throw it into the bottom of the craft.

The ferryman having once more warned me to keep the boat constantly headed to the southwest, said to us, “Now, with God!” the two improvised oarsmen bent to the oars, and we started.

On the river it was pitch dark. I could barely see the forms of my companions. The boat danced wildly; nevertheless, I was in high spirits--I was advancing. The boat was large and in good condition, as the ferryman had assured me. All fears of capsizing disappeared from my mind, thanks to my bright idea of the ballast, which now lay gently grunting just in the centre of the boat. Besides, I had under my command two men in reserve to relieve the two oarsmen in case of their being exhausted, and we were provided with spare oars.

How long we pulled and struggled with the river I cannot say, for I began to lose all idea of time. Twice already the oarsmen had relieved each other, and in spite of this they began to show signs of exhaustion. It seemed to me we were not advancing at all. Suddenly the boat began to dance violently. From this I concluded that we must be in the middle of the river. To cheer up the crew, I communicated to them my nautical observations, but just at this moment a huge wave raised us high up, and another, as in a fury of jealousy, struck us vehemently. The boat made a terrible lurch. The frightened men raised cries of terror, and--worst of all--the pig began to squeal horribly, and, struggling with its bound legs, began to throw itself hither and thither. I was frightened. I thought the struggling animal would surely upset the boat; and in my turn I howled out, with a voice of which I am sure a captain possessed of the strongest lungs would not be ashamed, “Overboard with the pig!” But this command, instead of ameliorating the situation aggravated it in the most unexpected way. Its owner threw himself flat on the beast to protect it. The pig, taken by surprise, and misjudging the man’s intention, redoubled its tossings, and the man following each of them with his body, put the boat in real danger.

Already I was prepared to give a new command, “Overboard with the two pigs!” but hesitated for one moment.

At that time I had never killed anyone--though I must confess to having afterwards sacrificed the lives of a few stupid Circassians who dared to fight against the White Czar for their beautiful mountains and their liberty--and I was glad that I hesitated. The man proved stronger than the pig, overpowered it with his weight, and both man and pig lay still.

The boat recovering its buoyancy began again to follow the motions of the waves. At the same moment I perceived the lights of Ladoga, but to my horror those lights, instead of vanishing to the right, vanished rapidly towards the left. I jumped on my feet and shouted, “For your lives, men, pull stronger; we are drifting into the lake!”

A new struggle--a struggle for our lives--began. Each of us knew well that once in the lake in such weather and darkness, we were lost. The men threw their sheep-skins off. I did the same with my fur. We did not need them--we were bathed in perspiration.

How long it lasted again I cannot tell. It seemed an eternity, and in spite of our utmost efforts the lights vanished more and more to the left.

Suddenly I felt something strike my head. My cap was snatched off, and instinctively throwing my hand up to catch it, I struck a rope. I seized it frantically, and shouted, “A rope! catch hold!”

The pig’s master was now the first to follow my command, and at the same time I felt that the boat was striking something hard. This proved to be a huge barge. A merciful Providence had guided us just under the rope of her anchor. The rudder and the oars were abandoned; we all, except the pig, clung to the rope, and began to call for help.

A voice above our heads shouted, “Who the devil is there?” and the peddlers and the peasants, as with one voice, cried out, “It is a _czinownik_!” (a government officer). This magic word proved no less effective on sea than on land, and at once came the answer, “Hold on--wait!”

In a few minutes a light appeared on the deck, some one threw us a rope from the barge and we were dragged to the other side of the vessel.

I saw a man lying flat on his stomach and stretching down toward me both his hands; another man held his feet. I seized the welcome hands, or rather the welcome hands grasped mine vigorously, and I was hoisted on the deck.

My companions followed me in the same way. What became of the pig I don’t know.

My limbs trembled and almost refused to support me. From exhaustion and excitement I was shivering all over. But I had no time to lose. I must be on the shore as soon as possible, and my deliverers from an almost certain death led me, supported on both sides, to the place where an immense plank, some fifty feet long, connected the barge with the shore.

But if I could not walk very well on the deck, still less was it possible for me to risk myself on this narrow plank. So I was seated on it, and the boatswain of the barge pushed me over as carefully as if I were a bale of most precious merchandise.

Once on _terra firma_ my legs recovered their elasticity as if by a charm, and thrusting into the hand of the boatswain the whole contents of my pocket-book, I ran to my lodgings.

With the help of my servant, who was fully initiated in all the mysteries of an officer’s ball attire, it did not take me long to get ready, but it was past two when I reached the house where all my thoughts were concentrated. It was supper-time, and the servant led me at once to the dining-room, brilliantly lighted and crowded to its utmost capacity.

But I had no time to waste in reflections, and had scarcely tossed off a few glasses of champagne in reply to toasts on my safe arrival when the signal for the mazurka was given.

All who had both legs right did not wait for the end of the supper, but seizing their partners rushed to the ballroom.

I need not say that I and my prize--I have the right to call her so, for I had fought gallantly for her, and won her, not for life, but for the mazurka--were at the head of all. We danced the mazurka, and danced till six in the morning.

THE ACE OF HEARTS.

I never can see the ace of hearts (Like a single splash of bright, red blood), But a train of awful memory starts And o’er me whirls like a seething flood.

I see the flash of a wicked knife That settles for all the hot dispute-- A cruel end to a sweet young life, A boyish face lying white and mute.

I can see it all--the lurid light From th’ open fire on the mountaineers-- The far Sierras gleam cold and white, And through the forest the wan moon peers.

My deal again--and again the ace That horrid train of memory starts: I can always see that dead boy’s face And his cold hands clutching the ace of hearts.

_Edith Sessions Tupper._

[Illustration]

OUTDOOR LIFE OF THE PRESIDENTS.

BY JOHN P. FOLEY.

No. II.

~Thomas Jefferson~, the third President, was, like Washington, a member of the rich, slave-owning aristocracy of Virginia. His father was a large landed proprietor, and bequeathed to him a handsome estate in the county of Albemarle. It was called Shadwell, after a parish in London. To another son, younger, he left a property on the James River, named Snowden, which commemorated the reputed birthplace of the family in Wales. The Jefferson homestead was on the Shadwell lands. At a distance of about two miles from where it stood there arose a beautiful forest-clothed mountain, which commanded a wide view of the surrounding country. It was a favorite resort of young Jefferson. When a boy, he and a youthful companion used to climb its rocky sides, and in later years they repaired to it for the purposes of study and recreation. Under the shadow of a splendid oak they read their legal text-books, and, in the ardor of their friendship, resolved that whoever died first should be buried at its feet, and that, when the time came, the survivor should rest beside him. This young friend, Dabney Carr, who subsequently married a sister of Jefferson, died in early manhood, and the romantic compact of boyhood was faithfully carried out. Half a century later the remains of Jefferson were laid by his side.

The story is told that during one of their frequent rambles on the mountain, Jefferson unfolded to Carr his intention to build his future home amid the scenes where they had spent so many happy hours.

This tale is probably true, for soon after Jefferson became of age, the majority of his slaves were set to work clearing away the top of the mountain, now called, for the first time, Monticello, and preparing the site for the mansion which was destined to an eternity of fame, because of the splendid achievements of its illustrious owner.

Jefferson was only fourteen years old when his father died. He had been nine years at school at the time; knew the rudiments of Latin and Greek, and had some knowledge of French. In a letter written in his old age to a grandson, whose education he was superintending, Mr. Jefferson refers to this sad event in his life, and describes the perils that surrounded his youth as follows: “When I recollect that at fourteen years of age the whole care and education of myself was thrown on myself, entirely without a relative or friend qualified to advise or guide me, and recollect the various sorts of bad company with which I associated from time to time, I am astonished that I did not turn off with some of them and become as worthless to society as they were.... From the circumstances of my position I was often thrown into the society of horse-racers, card-players, fox-hunters, scientific and professional men, and of dignified men; and many a time have I asked myself in the enthusiastic moment of the death of a fox, the victory of a favorite horse, the issue of a question eloquently argued at the bar, or in the great council of the nation, ‘Well, which of these kinds of reputation should I prefer? That of a horse-jockey, a fox-hunter, an orator, or the honest advocate of my country’s rights?’” The temptations to which he refers beset him, in all probability, when he was at William and Mary College and immediately after, while he was reading law in Williamsburg, the then capital of Virginia. That town was the centre of the most refined society of the province; the seat of the legislature; the headquarters of the army; and it was only natural that the objectionable characters whom Jefferson condemns should have been attracted to it. A young man just graduated with the highest honors from the university, with a reputation for the possession of great intellectual gifts, the heir to a fine estate, of agreeable and cultivated manners, Jefferson was at once admitted into the very best society of Williamsburg. He lived in a style befitting his position. He had his horses and slaves, in fact all the luxuries which a rich young gentleman of the time could command. At this period he fortunately fell under the influence of three men who helped to mold his career and turn him toward those pursuits which were ultimately crowned with the highest honors an American can obtain. They were the first men in the social and political life of Williamsburg; the first men, in fact, in the whole province. One was George Wyeth, his legal preceptor, a gentleman of the highest order of ability; in after years a signer of the Declaration of Independence and Chancellor of Virginia. The second was Dr. Small, one of the professors in the college, “who made him his daily companion,” and the third Governor Fauquier, “the ablest man,” says Jefferson, “who ever filled that office.” At the table of the governor, Jefferson, not yet twenty years old, was a guest as often as twice a week. He was also a member of a little musical society which the representative of royalty in Virginia had organized. Fauquier was one of the most accomplished men of his time. He was of a distinguished English family, courtly in manner, a brilliant conversationalist, with a wide knowledge of the world. He loved high play, and, it is said, lost his fortune in one night to the celebrated Anson, who first circumnavigated the globe.

Jefferson’s father, as we have said, died when his son was only fourteen years of age; but, says Mr. Randall in his biography of the third President, he had already taught young Thomas “to ride his horse, fire his gun, boldly stem the Rivanna when the swollen river was ‘rolling red from brae to brae,’ and press his way with unflagging foot through the rocky summits of the contiguous hills in pursuit of deer and wild turkeys.” From youth to old age riding was the one amusement of which Jefferson never tired. At college he kept his horses, the very best that could be had. His stable was the one extravagance of which, while there, he appears to have been guilty. His expenditures in this respect were so heavy that he requested his guardian to charge them to his portion of the estate, so that his brother and sisters should not suffer; but the guardian declined, on the ground that if he had thus sown his wild oats the property would be able to stand it without very great loss. His taste for fine horses lasted all through life. He rode and drove magnificent animals, says Mr. Randall, and in his younger days was exceedingly “finical” in their treatment. When his saddle-horse was led out he examined him carefully. If there was a spot on his coat he rubbed it with a white pocket-handkerchief, and if it was soiled, the groom was reprimanded. He preferred the Virginian racehorse. He did not ride, and was scarcely willing to drive, any other. He usually kept half a dozen brood mares of high quality. Although not a turfman--he ran only one race in his life--he had all the fondness of the Virginian for the sport, and rarely missed seeing what promised to be a good contest. While he held the office of Secretary of State, and, later on, when chief magistrate, he was frequently seen on the race-courses near Philadelphia and the federal city. Jefferson was not satisfied with slow and spiritless animals. On the contrary, he always aimed to have fleet, powerful, mettlesome creatures, and when these qualities could be obtained he was willing to overlook a bad temper. Colonel Randolph, writing on this point, remarks: “A bold and fearless rider; you saw at once from his easy and confident seat that he was master of his horse.... The only impatience of temper he ever exhibited was with his horse, which he subdued to his will by a fearless application of the whip on the slightest manifestation of restiveness. He retained to the last his fondness for riding on horseback. He rode within three weeks of his death, when, from disease, debility and age, he mounted with difficulty.” A servant was rarely allowed to accompany him, for he loved solitude, and used to say that the presence of an attendant annoyed him. In his young days he never drew rein at broken ground, and when in haste he used to dash into the Rivanna, even when it was swollen into a large and rapid river by mountain torrents. His superb horsemanship served him well on a memorable occasion during the Revolutionary War, when a detachment of English troops visited Monticello in the hope of capturing him. He had timely notice of their approach, and, having sent his family away in carriages to one of his numerous farms, he ordered his horse to a certain point, and returned to the house to secrete his papers. While thus occupied a second alarm came, and he had barely time to mount and dash into the woods, where he was safe from pursuit. Jefferson was then governor of Virginia, and in after years his political opponents charged that he ignominiously ran away from the enemy.

Mr. Jefferson’s classical tastes were indicated in the names of his horses: “Caractacus” was one, “Arcturus” another, “Tarquin” a third, “Celer” a fourth. Then he had “Diomed” and “Cucullin,” “Jacobin” and “The General,” “Wildair” and “Eagle.” “Eagle” seems to have been his favorite steed. He was fleet and fiery, and, withal, of a gentle temper. This animal was ridden by Jefferson when he was so feeble that he had to be assisted to mount. “Eagle,” it would appear, loved his venerable master. The story is told that when a young kinsman of Jefferson’s mounted the old horse to ride with a cavalcade to meet Lafayette on his way to Monticello, in 1825, “Eagle” became so excited by the sound of the drums and bugles that the young gentleman was obliged to turn back and ride home. On one occasion, when Jefferson was old and suffering severely from an injured wrist, a messenger brought the intelligence to Monticello that a grandson of the ex-President was severely ill at Charlottesville. Night was coming on, and the sky was dark and threatening. Jefferson ordered that “Eagle” be led to the door. His family, alarmed for his safety, vainly entreated him not to attempt the journey. In the saddle, he gave “Eagle” a cut which set him off at full speed. Mr. Jefferson’s family anxiously listened, hoping that he would draw bridle at the “notch,” where the mountain began to descend abruptly. The echoes of “Eagle’s” hoofs over the rocks told them that the fearful speed was maintained. The returning messenger was soon passed, and Charlottesville was reached “in a time over such ground that would have reflected credit on the boldest rider in Virginia.” “Arcturus” had the honor of being one of the Presidential horses at Washington. His disposition was bad, and he was exceedingly unmanageable. The crags of Monticello did not suit him, and when he first arrived there he selected as a shying point a rock which jutted out into the narrow road on the edge of a ravine. The brute seemed to reason that his rider would not dare to punish him at such a point. Jefferson indulged him two or three times, and then determined to break him of the habit. The next time “Arcturus” shied he punished him so severely that the animal was glad to put his fore-feet on the rock and stand still. Mr. Jefferson kept a good stable while he was President, although his political enemies were unwilling to concede even that point in his favor. In one of the opposition prints of the day we are told that he carried his affectation of democratic simplicity so far that “he rode around the avenues of Washington an ugly, shambling hack of a horse which was hardly fit to draw a tumbril.” But this was a slander. There are conflicting stories in regard to Mr. Jefferson’s inauguration. On the one hand, we are assured that he rode to the Capitol alone, and, tying his horse to the palings surrounding the grounds, went to the Senate chamber and took the oath. Mr. Rayner, in his life of Jefferson, quotes the account of the event by an eye-witness as follows: “The sun shone bright on that morning. The Senate was convened. The members of the Republican party that remained at the seat of government, the judges of the Supreme Court, some citizens and gentry from the neighboring country, and about a dozen ladies, made up the assembly in the Senate chamber.... Mr. Jefferson had not yet arrived. He was seen walking from his lodgings, which were not far distant, attended by five or six gentlemen, who were his fellow-lodgers. Soon afterwards he entered, accompanied by a committee of the Senate.... He took the oath, which was administered by the Chief-Justice.... The new President walked home with two or three gentlemen who lodged in the same house.” It is a well-known matter of history that Jefferson abolished all the official and social pomp that was so marked a feature of the administrations of his predecessors. The levees were discontinued. He had only two days for the reception of company--the 1st of January and the 4th of July, when he dispensed a very liberal hospitality. The ladies of Washington bitterly opposed this severe simplicity, and determined to make Mr. Jefferson return to the old order of things. With that end in view, a number of them visited the White House on the usual reception day. Jefferson was out riding at the time, and on his return was informed of their presence. A storm of wrath gathered on his brow, but was soon dispelled. Booted, spurred, and covered with dust, he entered the room, and, riding-whip in hand, chatted in the most delightful manner. The ladies saw they were beaten, and never made a second attempt to get the levees back. Mr. Jefferson on one of his solitary rides, while he was President, met a feeble beggar sitting on the banks of a stream. The mendicant, not knowing whom he addressed, asked to be helped across. Mr. Jefferson directed him to mount behind, and carried him over. The pack was forgotten, and Jefferson recrossed the stream for it.

From his youth Jefferson had an intense fondness for agriculture. The care and management of his large estate devolved on him as soon as he became of age. He was studying law at Williamsburg, but his summers were spent at Shadwell. He kept a clock in his bedroom, and rose in the early dawn. During the day he usually took a gallop, and in the twilight walked to the top of Monticello. Nine o’clock in summer and ten in winter were his hours for retiring. At a very early period he introduced a minute and exact system into all his affairs. He kept a large number of note-books. In one, “the garden book,” he recorded facts and data about the vegetable world, more particularly information bearing on the subject of horticulture. He also kept “a farm book,” and books for “personal” and “general” expenses. Then there was a meteorological register. In his account-books we find such entries as these: “Paid 11d. to the barber; 4d. for whetting penknife; put 1s. in the church box.” On the memorable Fourth of July, 1776, when the Declaration of Independence was signed, he sets forth that he had “paid Sparhank for a thermometer £3 5s.,” and “27s. for 7 pairs of women’s gloves.” He gave “1s. 6d. in charity.” The weather record tells us that on the same day at six ~A. M.~ the mercury stood 68° above; at noon, 76°, and at nine ~P. M.~, 73½°. Entries were made in this book regularly three times a day. Special expenditures were set down by themselves. All his outlay while President, for instance, is preserved in one manuscript volume, which was among the literary treasures of the late Samuel J. Tilden. A striking illustration of how Mr. Jefferson could charge his mind with the smallest as well as the largest matters of human concern is shown by the curious record which he kept of the condition of the vegetable market in Washington during the eight years of the Presidency. This table specifies thirty-seven different articles, and gives the date of the appearance of each of them on the table, or on the stands for sale. In his “garden book” he entered the time of the planting, sprouting, and ripening of his multitude of esculents. These entries were illustrated by diagrams, as neat as engravings, of the different plots or beds. The rows are numbered, and the seeds planted in them accurately given. Even small matters concerning the household received his attention, and we are told how much of this or that article will suffice for one person, or for a family; how much oil will be required for a given number of hours; the relative cost of oil and candles. His agricultural observations were ranged under seventeen general heads, comprising more than fifty subdivisions.

By birth and fortune Jefferson was an aristocrat, but his nature revolted against the idle and voluptuous habits of the planter class of that day. His ideas when he was about thirty years of age are well expressed by himself, as follows: “Those who labor in the earth are the chosen people of God, if ever he had a chosen people, whose breasts he has made his peculiar deposit for substantial and genuine virtue. It is the focus in which he keeps alive that sacred fire which otherwise might escape from the face of the earth. Corruption of morals in the aggregate mass of cultivators is a phenomenon of which no age nor nation has furnished an example. It is the mark set on those who, not looking up to heaven, to their own soil and industry, as does the husbandman, for their subsistence, depend for it on the casualties and caprice of customers. Dependence begets subservience and venality, suffocates the germ of virtue, and prepares fit tools for the designs of ambition. This, the natural progress and consequence of the arts, has sometimes, perhaps, been retarded by accidental circumstances; but, generally speaking, the proportion which the aggregate of the other classes of citizens bears in any State to that of its husbandmen, is the proportion of its unsound to its healthy parts, and is a good enough barometer whereby to measure its degree of corruption.”

Mr. Jefferson was married January 1, 1772, to Mrs. Martha Skelton, a rich young widow. The 1,900 acres inherited from his father he had increased to 5,000 acres, all paid for, and his slaves numbered nearly fifty. The farm yielded him about $2,000 a year, and his law practice $3,000, which was a large income at that time. Mrs. Jefferson inherited a fortune fully equal to that of her husband, so that when the Revolution came he was a rich man. Shadwell house had been burned down some years before, and the bride was taken to a wing of the new one at Monticello, which was ready for occupation. The wedding trip was inauspicious. The little phaeton in which the journey was made became imbedded in the snow and had to be abandoned. The young couple went the remainder of the distance on horseback, arrived at Monticello at midnight, and found all the servants asleep. A small bottle of wine, found behind some books in the library, constituted the bridal supper. Jefferson, as we have said, began the erection of Monticello when he reached his majority. The first work was to level the summit of the mountain, which rose nearly eight hundred feet above the surrounding country. This summit--an ellipsis of about ten acres--was made perfectly smooth. The view from it is of surpassing grandeur and beauty. At a distance of 100 miles, in some parts, the magnificent ranges of the Alleghanies shut out the horizon on the west, and trend away to the north and south. The Blue Ridge Mountains are visible for 150 miles, while in the foreground of the picture lies a lovely landscape of hill and valley, forest, stream and plain. The scene on the east, to quote the words of Mr. Wirt in his eulogy on Jefferson, “presents an extent of prospect bounded only by the spherical form of the earth, in which nature seems to sleep in eternal repose, as if to form one of the finest contrasts with the rude and rolling grandeur of the West.” “From this summit,” says Mr. Wirt, “the philosopher was wont to enjoy that spectacle, among the sublimest of nature’s operations--the looming of the distant mountains--and to watch the motions of the planets, and the greater revolutions of the celestial spheres. From this summit, too, the patriot could look down with uninterrupted vision upon the wide expanse of the world for which he considered himself born, and upward to the open-vaulted heavens which he seemed to approach, as if to keep him constantly in mind of his great responsibility. It is, indeed, a prospect in which you see and feel at once that nothing mean or little could live. It is a scene fit to nourish those great and high-souled principles which formed the elements of his character, and was a most noble and appropriate post for such a sentinel over the rights and liberties of man.”

The mansion was probably the finest country residence on the continent at the time. The main structure is one hundred feet in length and about sixty feet in depth. The basement story rises six feet above the ground. On it rests the principal story, twenty feet in height. Above this is an attic eight feet high, the whole crowned by a lofty dome twenty-eight feet in diameter. On the north and south fronts were piazzas, opening on a floored terrace which ran one hundred feet in a straight line, and then another hundred feet at right angles, terminated by pavilions two stories high. The offices and quarters of the servants were ranged under these terraces. The style of architecture is Doric with balustrades on top. The main entrance opens on a magnificent hall which is surrounded by a gallery connecting the upper rooms of the house. An American eagle in bas-relief, encircled by eighteen stars--the number of States when Jefferson was President--looks down from the ceiling, and holds in its claws a ponderous chandelier. This hall contained an immense number of statues and busts, so arranged as to exhibit the historical progress of sculpture from the rude attempts of the red Indian to Caracci’s finished statue of Jefferson himself. There was a vast collection of Indian paintings, ornaments, weapons, statues and idols, together with a profusion of natural curiosities and fossils of every description. The hall on one side opened on a spacious _salon_, through double doors of glass. The design was Egyptian. Imbedded in the walls were Louis XIV. mirrors, bought in France, while Mr. Jefferson was minister. It contained many fine paintings, historical and scriptural. There were portraits of Locke, Bacon, Newton, Jefferson’s “Trinity of great men;” of Columbus, Vespuceius, Cortez, Magellan and Raleigh; of Washington, Adams, Franklin, and other distinguished men of the Revolution. Adjoining it was another splendid apartment, called the “tea room,” fitted up in rich and becoming style. The southern wing was devoted to the library, cabinet, and chamber of Mr. Jefferson. The library was divided into three apartments, opening one into the other. In it, at one time, was the finest private collection of books on the continent, sold afterwards to Congress when the Capitol was burned in the second war with England. The cabinet led to a greenhouse filled with rare plants. In a room adjoining the study was a collection of mathematical, scientific, and optical instruments, said to be the best possessed by any private gentleman in the world. The erection and decoration of this elegant home, and the improvement of the grounds surrounding it, cost Mr. Jefferson more than $400,000. He was practically his own architect and superintendent. The rough work was performed by American mechanics, slave and free; but the decoration was wrought by foreign artisans, who were brought for the purpose from Italy, Switzerland, and other parts of Europe. Beneath the building are, or were, long subterranean passages, cased with stone, through which a person could walk upright. They were connected with the slave quarters and the stables, hundreds of feet distant. The master of Monticello used to pass through one of them from his bedchamber and mount his horse in the early morning before the household arose.

All the appointments at Monticello were on a scale corresponding with the style of the mansion. On the declivities of the mountain were houses and buildings sufficient to make a small village. They were the dwellings of his overseers and workmen; the quarters and workshops of his mechanics. It was a little community complete in itself. Mr. Jefferson’s millers ground in his own mill the corn and wheat raised on his farms; his horses were shod by his own blacksmiths; the timber of his woods was made into every article of use by his own carpenters, the wool clipped from his own sheep was spun and woven by his own people. He even made his own nails, and his mechanics were sufficiently skilful to build his carriages.

The lawn and grounds, which were laid out under his direction, were as beautiful as nature and art could make them. At the age of twenty-three, according to an entry in his garden book, he planted a great variety of fruit-trees, and about the same period he selected the now historic burying-place where the young friend of his youth, his own family, and himself are buried. The book is filled with memoranda like these: “What to do with the grounds: Thin out the trees; cut out stumps and undergrowth; remove old trees and other rubbish, except where they may look well; cover the whole with grass. Intersperse jessamine, honeysuckle, sweetbrier and hardy flowers which do not require attention. Keep in the park deer, rabbits, and every other wild animal except those of prey. Procure a buck elk, to be, as it were, monarch of the wood. Put inscriptions in various places on the bark of the trees, and make benches or seats of rock or turf.” There are directions for the shrubbery. “To be planted: Alder, bastard-indigo, flowering amorphia, barbery, cassioberry, carsine, chinquipin, Jersey tea, dwarf-cherry, lilac, wild-cherry, dogwood, redwood, horse-chestnut, magnolia, mulberry, locust, holly, juniper, laurel, yew.” “Hardy perennial flowers: snapdragon, larkspur, anemone, lily-of-the-valley, primrose, larkspur, sunflower, flower-de-luce, daisy, gilliflower, violet, flag, etc.” That Mr. Jefferson carried out his plans in regard to the deer is evident from the account which has been left us by the Marquis de Chastellux, who visited Monticello in 1782. The Marquis says: “Mr. Jefferson amuses himself by raising a score of these animals [deer] in his park. They have become very familiar, which happens to all the animals of America, for they are, in general, much easier to tame than those of Europe. He amuses himself by feeding them with Indian corn, of which they are very fond, and which they eat out of his hand. I followed him one evening into a deep valley where they are accustomed to assemble towards the close of the day, and saw them walk, run and bound.”

The lawn was filled with lofty willows, poplars, acacias, catalpas, and other native and foreign trees set out so as not to obstruct the view in any direction from the centre where the house stood. Many of them he had planted with his own hand, and all of them were placed where they grew under his immediate superintendence. No wonder he declined to leave this beautiful and ideal home and accept the commission to France when it was first offered to him. The death of Mrs. Jefferson, in 1782, was so severe an affliction, however, that he gladly went abroad as a means of escape from scenes which so forcibly reminded him of his loss. His important and often vexatious diplomatic duties did not prevent him from noting and sending home to his numerous correspondents every hint and suggestion likely to benefit the agricultural interests of the country. Almost every one of his many letters contains some reference to his favorite pursuit. He was a member of the Agricultural Society of Paris and of the Board of Agriculture of London. In 1785, he writes from Paris that he recently “went to see a plough which was worked by a windlass, without horses or oxen. It was a poor affair. With a very troublesome apparatus, applicable only to a dead level, four men could do the work of two horses.” To another correspondent he writes about a new invention--“the working of grist-mills by steam,” and adds, “I hear you are applying the same agent in America to navigate boats.” Then comes the prediction, “I have little doubt but that it will be applied generally to machines so as to supersede the use of water-ponds, and, of course, to lay open all the streams for navigation.” This improvement of the plough was one of Mr. Jefferson’s great problems, and it is said that he was the first to lay down a mathematical rule for shaping the mould-board. The first mention of it in his writings is found in the journal of his trip through Southern France, which was made partly for pleasure and partly to obtain information on agricultural and other subjects that would be of value to his countrymen at home. He received for the new mould-board a gold medal from the Société d’Agriculture de la Seine. With the same object in view, he also made a tour of Northern Italy. In a letter to the Marquis de La Fayette he writes: “In the great cities I go to see what travelers think alone worthy of being seen; but I make a job of it, and generally gulp it all down in a day. On the other hand, I am never satiated with rambling through the fields and farms, examining the culture and cultivators with a degree of curiosity which makes some take me to be a fool and others to be much wiser than I am. From the first olive fields of Pierrelatte to the orangeries of Hieres has been one continued rapture to me.” Mr. Jefferson was captivated by the olive. He wrote home that he considered it the most precious gift of heaven to man, and thought it was superior even to bread. He strongly urged its cultivation, and also that of the fig and the mulberry. The Southern States are indebted to him for upland rice. In 1790, he procured a cask of that variety from Denbigh, in Africa; shipped it to Charleston, where, by his direction, a part of it was sent to Georgia. He also shipped a large number of olive plants, which throve admirably in their new soil. “The greatest service,” says he, “which can be rendered any country is to add a useful plant to its culture, especially a bread grain. Next in value to bread is oil.” While in Italy, he procured the seeds of three different species of rice from Piedmont, Lombardy and the Levant, and sent them to South Carolina, together with the seeds of the San Foin and other grasses. He was not in favor of the cultivation of the vine in the United States--not, however, on account of his temperance principles, but because he thought men might be more profitably employed in other departments of industry. While there he bought Merino sheep for his farm at Monticello.

While he was sending these gifts to the country, greater and more valuable, perhaps, than all the parchment treaties that have come across the Atlantic since our diplomacy began, he was at the same time extremely zealous in making known every new discovery and invention within the whole circle of the arts and sciences. For the great staple productions of the country he eagerly sought new outlets and markets. He labored long and earnestly with the Count de Vergennes, the French Prime Minister, to break up the tobacco monopoly, so that the American product could be sold in France. He endeavored to convince the Italian merchants that they needed our whale-oil and lard, and thus laid the foundation of what afterwards became a profitable trade. In the literary and scientific circles of Paris he was a prominent figure, honored for his great attainments, the nobility of his character, and his services in the cause of human freedom. His fame had preceded him, and he was welcomed by the savants of France as a worthy successor to the immortal Franklin. He discussed natural history with M. de Buffon. “I have made a particular acquaintance here,” he writes to a friend, “with Monsieur de Buffon, and have a great desire to give him the best idea I can of our elk.” He requests his correspondent to send him the horns, skeleton and skin of one, if it is possible to procure them. In order to gratify Mr. Jefferson, a grand hunting party was organized in New Hampshire by his friends, and, after a day’s hard chase, a fine animal was captured. It was stuffed and shipped to Paris at an expense of over fifty pounds sterling. Daniel Webster used to tell the story that its arrival was celebrated by a grand supper, at which Buffon was, of course, a guest, and that, at the proper time, it was introduced as the scientific course of the feast. Mr. Jefferson also added to the King’s Cabinet of Natural History, in charge of Buffon, our American grouse and pheasant, which he asked Francis Hopkinson to buy for him in the markets of Philadelphia. But he began to weary of France. Writing to Baron Geismer in the fall of 1785, he says: “I am now of an age which does not easily accommodate itself to new manners and new modes of living, and I am savage enough to prefer the woods, the wilds and the independence of Monticello to all the brilliant pleasures of this gay capital.” He was not, however, released from his post until three years later. On his way home from Norfolk, where he landed upon his return, he received an invitation from Washington, then President-elect, to become Secretary of State. He reluctantly accepted, and entered on his new duties March, 1790, in New York, which was then the seat of government. Mr. Jefferson was duly beloved by his slaves, and his reception by them on his arrival at Monticello showed the reverence in which they held him. His daughter, Mrs. Randolph, writes: “The negroes discovered the approach of the carriage as soon as it reached Shadwell, and such a scene I never witnessed in my life. They collected in crowds around it, and almost drew it up the mountain by hand. The shouting, etc., had been sufficiently obstreperous before, but the moment it reached the top of the mountain, it reached the climax. When the door was opened, they lifted him in their arms and bore him to the house, crowding around and kissing his hands and feet--some blubbering and crying--others laughing. It seemed impossible to satisfy their anxiety to touch and kiss the very earth which bore him. They believed him to be one of the greatest, and they knew him to be one of the very best of men and kindest of masters.”

Mr. Jefferson did not lose his interest in agricultural pursuits while he was a member of the Washington administration. He made frequent trips to Monticello, and directed the operations of his farmers, laborers, and other workmen. In June, 1790, he writes from New York to one of his daughters: “We did not have peas or asparagus here until the 8th day of this month. On the same day I heard the first whip-poor-will whistle. Swallows and martins appeared here on the 21st of April. When did they appear with you, and when had you peas and strawberries and whip-poor-wills in Virginia? Take notice, hereafter, whether the whip-poor-wills always come with the strawberries and peas.” When Mr. Jefferson retired from the Washington Cabinet he immediately began to repair the damages his long absence had caused on his estate. He then owned 10,000 acres of land, of which 2,000 were under cultivation, but they had been sadly mismanaged by his overseers. All the cleared land was divided into nearly four equal parts, each containing about 280 acres. These were subdivided into fields of about forty acres in extent, separated from one another by rows of peach-trees, 1,151 of which were planted by him in one year alone. He had 154 slaves, 249 cattle, 390 hogs, 5 mules, and 34 horses, 9 of which were required for the use of his household. To quote his own words at this time, he gave himself up “to his family, his farms and his books.” His farming operations were conducted on the most approved scientific principles, and the first threshing-machine seen in Virginia was on his estate. But in a short time his election to the Vice-Presidency recalled him to the political arena, and “the rocks and wilds” of Monticello were once more abandoned. Four years, and he became President. The young capital, Washington, was then slowly assuming the form and appearance of a town, if not of a city. Jefferson, who, as Secretary of State at Philadelphia, had supervised the plan of its streets and the architecture of its public buildings, took a keen delight in the work of building and beautifying it. One of his biographers, writing shortly after his death in 1826, says: “Almost everything that is beautiful in the artificial scenery of Washington is due to the taste and industry of Mr. Jefferson. He planted its walks with trees and strewed its gardens with flowers. He was rarely seen returning from his daily excursions on horseback without bringing some branches of tree or shrub, or bunch of flowers, for the embellishment of the infant capital. He was familiar with every tree and plant, from the oak of the forest to the meanest flower of the valley. The willow-oak was among his favorite trees, and he was often seen standing on his horse gathering the acorns from this tree. He had it in view to raise a nursery of them, which, when large enough to give shade, should be made to adorn the walks of all the avenues in the city. In the meantime he planted them with the Lombardy poplar, being of the most sudden growth, contented that, though he could not enjoy their shade, his successors would. Those who have stood on the western portico of the Capitol and looked down the long avenue of a mile in length to the President’s house, have been struck with the beautiful colonnade of trees which adorns the whole distance on either side. They were all planted under the direction of Mr. Jefferson, who joined in the task with his own hands. He always lamented the spirit of extermination which had swept off the noblest forest trees that overspread Capitol Hill, extending down to the banks of the Tiber and the banks of the Potomac. He meant to have converted the grounds into extensive parks and gardens. ‘The loss is irreparable,’ said he to a European traveler, ‘nor can the evil be prevented. When I have seen such depredations I have wished for a moment to be a despot, that, in the possession of absolute power, I might enforce the preservation of these valuable groves. Washington might have boasted one of the noblest parks and most beautiful walks attached to any city in the world.’” The Washington of even 1830 has long since passed away. Where the long line of shade-trees from the Capitol to the President’s house stood, the parallel rails of the street-cars have long been laid, while the stream of classic name has been inclosed in brick and stone, and made to serve the ignoble purpose of a great drainage conduit. Jefferson’s dream of a beautiful capital has been realized, however; and could he return to it he would not find much to condemn in its avenues and parks except some of the statues that disfigure them.

Mr. Jefferson’s long political service came to an end in March, 1809, and with it his final retirement to Monticello. He was then sixty-six years of age. The journey to his home was one long triumphal procession, the inhabitants of every town and village through which he passed welcoming him with complimentary addresses and resolutions. He had been forty years in the service of the public. His intellectual powers were undecayed and his bodily health good. Seventeen years of life were yet before him. The restoration of his property was his first care. His lands were not in a compact body, and a great deal of riding to and fro was necessary. One of the principal farms was in Bedford County, more than a day’s journey from Monticello, and he usually spent six or seven weeks there every year. In private as well as in public life, Mr. Jefferson had made it a rule to be out of bed with the sun, and to transact a large amount of business before breakfast. To this rule he adhered even in his old age. In a letter to ex-President Adams, in 1820, he says: “I can walk but little, but I ride six or eight miles a day without fatigue; and, within a few days, I shall endeavor to visit my other home, after a twelvemonths’ absence from it. Our University, four miles distant, gives me frequent exercise, and the oftener as I direct its architecture.” The building and equipment of the University of Virginia was the crowning work of Mr. Jefferson’s life. He visited it nearly every day, and when compelled to remain at home, watched the workmen through a spyglass from his veranda. The usual routine of his life at this period is thus described by one of his biographers: “He rose with the sun. From that time to breakfast, and often until noon, he was in his cabinet, chiefly employed in epistolary correspondence. From breakfast, or noon at the latest, to dinner he was engaged in his workshops, his garden, or on horseback among his farms. From dinner to dark he gave to society and recreation with his neighbors and friends; and from candle-light to bed-time he devoted himself to reading and study.” A granddaughter has left us this picture of him in the last years of his life: “He loved farming and gardening, the fields, the orchards, and the asparagus beds. Of flowers he was very fond. I remember the planting of the first hyacinths and tulips. The precious roots were added to the earth under his own eye, with a crowd of happy young faces of his grandchildren clustered around to see the process and inquire anxiously the name of each separate deposit. In the morning, immediately after breakfast, he used to visit his flower-beds and gardens.” His retirement was invaded by a multitude of admirers and curiosity seekers, whose entertainment became so great a drain upon his resources that, coupled with other financial losses, he became deeply involved in pecuniary difficulties. His creditors grew clamorous, and he was compelled to ask the Legislature permission to dispose of his property by lottery. The scheme embraced three great prizes, namely, Monticello, valued at $71,000; the Shadwell Mills, adjoining it, $30,000, and the Albemarle estate at $11,500. Public attention having been thus called to his distress, meetings were held in nearly all the principal cities of the Union, and a large sum of money was subscribed for his benefit. But his life was now drawing to a close, and he experienced very little relief from these voluntary offerings. In the summer of 1826 he became very feeble, and he died on the 4th of July, at ten minutes to one o’clock, “the day on which he prayed that he might be permitted to depart.” Fifty years had passed away since the great Declaration had been given to the world, and the political independence of the Thirteen Colonies proclaimed. Away in distant Quincy, noble old John Adams died almost at the same hour, thanking God that “Thomas Jefferson still lives.”

MAN’S THREE FOLLIES.

A woman said to sage Voltaire: “You men are really famous For just three follies: they’re your share; For more than three you blame us.

“Man never waits for fruit to fall, But shakes the tree or beats it; While woman, in no haste at all, When fruit has ripened--eats it.

“Men rush to war, defying fate, And fight as if for pleasure; When death would come, if men would wait, And take them at his leisure.

“Man follows woman: foolish chase, For if he only knew her, And would but turn from her fair face, He need not thus pursue her.

“If she once thought man meant retreat, All scruples she would swallow; Grass would not grow beneath her feet, So quickly would she follow.

“We’re not afraid this truth to tell To men who oft deceive us We’ve learned their ways, and we know well That they will not believe us.

“Man will not, cannot turn away From the fair face of woman; Her sceptre she will always sway-- At least while man is human!”

_Egbert L. Bangs._

[Illustration]

THE LADIES’ EASTERN TRICYCLE TOUR.

FROM THE MERRIMAC TO NAUMKEAG.

BY DAISIE.

[Illustration]

“Ohne Hast” was our motto as, in the month of October, we cycled from the banks of the Merrimac to old Naumkeag. We borrowed but one-half of Goethe’s motto, for we did not care to add the “Ohne Rast,” and live up to it. He gets much out of a cycle tour who wheels leisurely through the country, for he exerts himself far less than does the pedestrian or the equestrian; he sees no less of what is around and about him, and he travels farther in a given time. There are those who derive no pleasure from cycling unless they rush along, bent only on making quick time between points; but this idea has never animated the ladies who yearly wander awheel along the rocky coast of Northern Massachusetts.

“The Ladies’ Annual Tricycle Tour to the North Shore of Massachusetts” is our rather cumbersome but all-inclusive title, and under it we have had four very delightful outings. This tour was evolved during the fall of 1885 from the mind of Miss Minna C. Smith, then on the editorial staff of ~Outing~, and the first tour was carried out under her direction, and became the subject of an article in this magazine at that time--(the Ladies’ Tour to Kettle Cove, vol. vii., p. 431). Minna’s first idea was a tour for ladies alone; but she very soon discovered that the ladies would not go without their husbands and sweethearts, and it occurred to her mind, also, that the masculines would be very handy in screwing up loose nuts, or repairing damages to the machines. And so it was a mixed company that first essayed to run awheel from Middlesex Fells to Kettle Cove. And it has come about that ladies with gentlemen have composed all the succeeding tours, three in number, though the ladies have always been in the majority, and the rule that no gentleman can participate unless he is escort to a lady has been rigidly adhered to. The gentlemen pay for the privilege of attending the tour by arranging all the details and liquidating the bills, and find their reward in the supreme satisfaction of which the ladies give evidence in look and manner. Before I tell you how we went and what we did, let me invite your attention to our itinerary.

Wednesday, October 3d.--By train from Boston to Newburyport--special car to carry our cycles. Night at the Wolfe Tavern.

Thursday, October 4th.--Ride from Newburyport to Gloucester, thirty miles. Through Newbury, Rowley, Ipswich, Essex Woods, Manchester-by-the-Sea, Magnolia, and Gloucester.

Friday, October 5th.--Around Cape Ann, through Rockport, Lanesville, Annisquam, Riverdale, West Gloucester, and Gloucester.

Saturday, October 6th.--A forenoon at Magnolia. In the afternoon, ride to Salem, through Manchester-by-the-Sea, Beverly Farms, Beverly, and Salem.

Sunday, October 7th.--A forenoon at Nahant, dinner at Lynn, and the homeward ride in the afternoon.

There were twenty-four of us in all. Eight wives assisted their husbands in pedaling eight tandems. Two pairs of girls propelled two tandems. The veteran and his wife rode a tandem bicycle. One young lady rode a single tricycle. One solitary gentleman rode a bicycle.

Our tandem bicycle was a seven-days’ wonder for the rustics on the route, and they viewed it with open-eyed astonishment. They never expected to see a lady on a bicycle, and they could hardly believe what their eyes told them.

There were some who protested against travel by rail on any part of a cycle tour, and spurned the idea of going to Newburyport in this way. They were allowed to exercise their own sweet wills, so four of the tourists wheeled forty miles to the rendezvous the day before the start. We were quartered at the Wolfe Tavern, in front of which hung a sign placed there in the last century, and bearing a portrait of General Wolfe. It was an ugly daub, but interesting and attractive, nevertheless. Hector thought it strange that a tavern should encourage the presence of a “wolf at the door,” and suggested that the landlord would have our assistance to drive him away when we came to pay our bills, or “pay the shot,” as he put it.

Newburyport is a quaint old place, and on every hand are to be seen suggestions of bygone days in the forms of a gambrel-roof house, a colonial door, or the more common outside steps which follow the front lines of the house and take one in at the front door by a turn. Here is the mansion house of Lord Timothy Dexter, who sent a cargo of warming-pans to the West Indies and made a large sum of money, not by selling them for bed-warming purposes, but for the use to which the natives quickly turned them of dipping up molasses from the vats. It is told, also, of this eccentric individual, that he had a mock funeral pass through the streets while he himself occupied the coffin, which was carried in a hearse. The picture of his great house, in front of which is a high fence with huge posts, each post a pedestal for a statue, has become familiar in cheap prints.

Hector and I were up early and strolling through the town. Our riding suits attracted no little attention, but one gets used to being stared at after cycling experiences of a few months. Gentlemen in knee-breeches are no uncommon sight in these days of tennis, baseball and cycling, but legs clad in knee-breeches appearing below an overcoat suggest an inharmonious grouping of garments, and I do not wonder that they provoke a smile. We made straight for the cemetery, of course, for in these quaint old places the cemetery is always interesting. We found it hard-by the jail, and I thought their juxtaposition not inappropriate. We read many epitaphs written a century ago, and could not but smile at the queer ideas expressed.

The natives turned out in force to see us start. They had possibly seen ladies ride tricycles before, but a large party like this, and one couple on a tandem bicycle, was a decided novelty. Good Mother Nature was kind to us on this the first day of our tour. She had been frowning for weeks before and sending down rain, rain, till we began to think we should have to tour in an ark instead of awheel. The gentlemen forgot what a glorious riding year lay behind them, and I heard many remarks more emphatic than polite. The frown on the face of the heavens changed to a smile the night before the eventful day, and we started our wheels toward Gloucester under pleasant skies. Molly was our pacemaker, while I staid behind to help along the laggards and to signal Molly in case of accident, and the Doctor’s wife looked after the drag which conveyed our luggage and a few spare machines. We had a whistle code which nobody took the trouble to learn, and our rules were very strict, though nobody seemed to pay much regard to them. Six miles an hour was the pace cut out by Molly, and this did not violate the motto, “Ohne Hast,” except in the minds of the horses on the drag. Do we mind the hills? Bless you, no! If the hill has a good hard surface we do not mind it nearly so much as we do a level, sandy stretch.

It were useless to attempt to tell the delight of a tricycle ride through a pleasant country, where Nature invites the eye to dwell upon her charms, where the roads are firm and smooth, when the whole body tingles with exhilaration born of quickened circulation and speedy movement through the air. To experience is to know. The half cannot be told.

We left the old town behind us and soon came to the river Parker (don’t call it Parker River in the presence of a Newburyporter). On the farther bank we were greeted by an old resident, who gave us apples to eat and entertained us with stories of the old house in which he lives, which, by the way, is the homestead of the Poor family, of which the noted Ben. Perley Poor and our friend are members. To-day we see Cape Ann under its rural aspect; tomorrow we shall see the bold shore and the open sea.

A boy shouts after the gentleman from New York: “Say, mister, your wheel’s goin’ round,” and the man from Manhattan nearly falls off his wheel from the effect of this very new joke.

At Bean’s Crossing we stopped for a drink of cold water at the well, and, if you will believe it, many of the ladies preferred to drink from the old oaken bucket, and spurned the drinking-cups gallantly offered by the gentlemen. The bucket was clean, however, without a suspicion of dirty moss on it. The ride through Essex woods was a poem in cycling. The summer residents have bought up large tracts of land in these woods and perpetuated this beautiful driveway. The road-bed is good, and one passes under arching trees for miles seeing nowhere any disturbance of nature due to the hand of man, save only the path he is traveling. Drink in this scene if you can, and garnish it with the glory of the autumnal foliage.

Just before we entered the woods we were met by the Poet and the Artist, who rode over from Gloucester to meet us and escort us on our way. They approached us down-hill, as we ascended. Just before we came up to them they performed a most artistic header in full sight of the party, which we all enjoyed, after we had discovered they had come out of it without injury. The poet dived through the air and alighted on the grass many feet in front of the machine, while the artist found himself under the machine, which illustrated the total depravity of inanimate things by jumping on him and pinning him to the sod. At Ipswich we drank again. Every pump is patronized by cycling tourists, and I dare not estimate the number of glasses of spring water that are consumed on a trip of this kind. Let me say that our tourists are teetotalers. I know this, because I heard one of the gentlemen say, after we had drunk from our fourth or fifth spring the first day, “I never saw such a lot of teetotal drinkers as cyclers are.”

Just out of Ipswich there was a breakdown. The Doctor’s axle yielded to his tremendously powerful pedaling, and a wrecked machine was cast upon the road. Here came in the usefulness of the drag with its cargo of spare machines. The wreck was taken on board and new machines were soon under the castaway crew.

Dinner was taken in picnic style, under the trees, in a nook of the Essex Woods, and ham sandwiches, chicken and eggs were washed down with water from a neighboring spring. At four ~P. M.~ we drew up in front of the Pavilion, at Gloucester. Then came the discussion over the distance. ’Tis with our cyclometers as with our watches, none go just alike, yet each believes his own. Some told us we had ridden thirty-two miles, others said thirty. My fatigue indicated a ride of a short distance, my hunger pointed to figures much larger than any cyclometer told.

That night there was music and dancing in the parlor. To see that merry company, who would think they had pedaled their “go-carts” over thirty miles of good, bad, and indifferent roads during the day? Molly favored the company with a number of recitations, the Doctor’s wife read an original poem which teemed with personalities, and Mrs. Manhattan played while we danced. We slept the sleep of the innocent that night, lulled to slumber by the breakers on the beach, just beneath our windows.

The second day is always the most important of the tour, for on it we circle Cape Ann. The road runs out of Gloucester at the north, belts the cape, and returns to Gloucester again from the west. Cape Ann projects into Massachusetts Bay, as though nature had given a great nose to the Old Commonwealth. The road follows the shore-line northward, then turns inland, and takes the visitor through a country of hills to the starting-point. I cannot believe that money or material wealth in any form could tempt a cycler to travel this road if it were not for the scenery. The length of the belt is only fifteen miles, but experienced riders suffer more fatigue in traveling these, than forty miles of ordinary roads would bring. A Boston newspaper pronounced it, a few years ago, an unfit road for ladies to ride over. And yet we have conquered it four times. Hill succeeds hill in constant succession, and sandy surfaces make the levels hard to ride upon. But we must pay for the good things of this life, and we cannot have Cape Ann scenery without compensation.

Twenty of us responded to the call of the pacemaker at nine o’clock Friday morning, and the drag was in position. Hector presented a pretty spectacle this morning behind the white wings of a dove which ornamented his tandem. The Doctor’s wife was suspected of this trick, perpetrated to show her appreciation of the way in which Hector sang his favorite song of “White Wings” for the entertainment of the company. If Hector’s beauty ranked with his inability to sing he would be another Adonis. The tourists were well avenged for the peace-destroying notes that had been forced upon them, for every shrill-voiced boy on the road that day--and we met several groups just let loose from school--saluted the decorated machine with the chorus of the well-worn song.

We went out of Gloucester with bright colors to the fore--on the cheeks of the ladies. Leaving Gloucester, we passed the old stone barn at Beaver Dam, then to Rockport, where we spent a pleasant half-hour at the quarries, looking down from the stone bridge that carries the roadway over the cut, into the great depths with the palisaded sides of still unquarried granite. Some of the great blocks but recently taken out were said to be twenty-five feet long and twenty tons in weight. We took the statement on faith, for we had neither measuring rod nor scales. A native took us to see a curio that is shown to visitors. A schooner ran into a sloop. The jibboom of the former went clear through the mast of the sloop and staid there. The mast with its unceremonious visitor lies upon the wharf to excite the wonder of those who behold it. “His Grace the Duke” cracked a very poor joke when he spoke of the masterly stroke of the schooner, and one man said that schooners had run into him without any such effect.

We were doing more walking than riding, for there are more hills than levels in that district, and many hills make pedestrianism a charm. Pigeon Cove came next in view. We saw several flights of ducks, but no pigeons hereabouts. Here, on the extreme easterly point of Cape Ann, we halted for lunch. An accommodating innkeeper, who had closed his hostelry, and who was the sole occupant except his family, kindly loaned us a table and the use of his range for the making of coffee. Molly made the coffee, and proved herself an artist in beverages.

After dinner we strolled and climbed upon the rocks which were piled up upon the point. Great slabs of granite that weighed ten, fifteen, and even twenty tons, were shown us, and we were asked to believe that they were thrown up by the sea, or moved rods away from their former positions by the gale of March, 1888. It was a great tax upon our credulity to view these massive stones and accept the tales that were told of the sport which the waves had made with them. The landlady showed an ugly and repulsive horned toad that had recently been sent her from California. It was still alive, and several of the ladies were courageous enough to take it in their hands, though the general verdict was, “Ugh!”

Leaving Pigeon Cove behind us, we rode on to Folly Cove. Here the scene is altogether different. The cove is surrounded by high land, from which we looked down upon white-capped waters and saw white-winged plyers of the deep in the middle ground and on the horizon, while just beneath us fishermen were tending their nets, and lobster-catchers in dories were hauling in their pots.

At Annisquam we visited the great boulder. Near the summit of a great hill lies this mass of rock, not less than fifty feet in height and width. Who put it there? Let the icebergs tell the story in scratches on its side. A few venturesome ones, who were shod with rubber, climbed to the top, and the photographer snapped his shutter and caught us as we stood about the rock. Off in the distance is Coffin’s Beach. Two schooners are on the sands, one at low-water mark, and the other far above the waters. They were thrown up there from the sea by the gale of last March, and they wait for the sands to engulf them. It will not pay to save them, so slowly but surely they are sinking into the sands, and before many months they will have gone down out of sight.

The Veteran brought pickled limes for our entertainment on the road. There should have been a few left when we got to the boulder, so one of the young ladies clambered into the drag to refresh herself, and soon had the box in her lap. There was a screech from the drag and a rush of the gentlemen toward it. When the maiden opened the box, she had found, not pickled limes, but the horned toad from California, who winked his ugly eyes at her as daylight was let in upon him. It appeared that the Doctor’s wife had begged him from the landlady at Pigeon Cove and without our knowledge had made him one of the party. He went with us to the end, and the ladies soon gained courage enough to feed him with flies.

We were back at Gloucester at half-past four. Then, after dinner, we had more fun in the parlor during the evening, more song and more story. Does anybody say we ought to have been tired after our long and difficult ride? Bless you, we never think of being tired on these tours.

Saturday morning brought clouded skies. Out upon you, Mother Nature, for marring our tour! It never yet rained on our touring days, then why spoil the record? Weatherwise natives told us that it would not rain long, and said that fair weather was ahead. Hector sententiously remarked: “He who rides a cycle needs no reins.” We started for Magnolia in a drizzle, and in a drizzle we did the place. Our wheels were housed at Willow Cottage, and the tourists strolled over to Rafe’s Chasm. It was a good day for surf studies, and the chasm is the ideal place for this. The waters rush up into the great cleft and come tumbling back white with anger, the waves beat upon the rocks, and the spray is sent high in air. We looked at the iron cross erected to the memory of Martha Marvin, who was washed into the sea from these rocks a few years ago; and lying right before us was Norman’s Woe, whereon the schooner _Hesperus_ was wrecked.

Meantime the heavens put on a thicker coat of gray, foreboding trouble ahead for any who should dare venture unprotected beneath them. Two o’clock was our hour for starting, but at that time the rain was falling in torrents. No matter; let us drive on. It will not hurt us to get wet, for our work will keep us warm. Let me choose between a high wind and a rain-storm and I will take the rain in every case, and so think all cyclers. Keep the body warm by quick action on the wheel, change clothing at the end of the ride, and rub yourself well with a coarse towel, and there is no evil effect from a ducking of this kind.

We rode twelve miles to Salem. The roads were heavy, and we had to take the sidewalks wherever we could, without paying any regard to the law prohibiting sidewalk riding, for the blue-coated guardian of the peace could never be so cruel as to arrest ladies for riding on the sidewalk when the mud was six inches deep. It was: Go at your own pace now; no matter about precedence. The word was: Get to Salem as quick as you can! It was a race warm-bathward, as Miss Rives would say. The tandem bicycle reached the hotel first of all, but close behind were the Misses K---- on their tandem. Good English and Scotch blood flows in the veins of these two young ladies, and they have the brawn and sinew to put their machine over the road faster than many of the gentlemen care to ride. We must have presented a ludicrous sight as we passed through the villages drenched with rain and dropping water from every projection. “Why don’t you drop it and run?” called out a youngster after us as we hurried onward. When we came to the river, Hector suggested that we should ride through it, “for,” said he, “we can’t get any wetter than we are, and the experience will be novel.” Declining the suggestion, we took the bridge. Only the week before they had celebrated the centennial anniversary of the structure--old Beverly Bridge--and we wondered if ever a stranger company had crossed from shore to shore than this rain-drenched party of cyclists. The Doctor’s wife tired of riding in the rain before half the journey was completed, and she found a way to take solid comfort and keep dry. She got into the drag and left her husband to pedal a double-seated machine alone, but taking pity on him shortly, she threw him a rope and an umbrella. The rope he attached to the machine and the umbrella was raised for shelter. Thus was he towed along, to the delight of the small boys who witnessed the peculiar spectacle. Salem was kind to us. Warm fires were ready, and soon we were in dry clothing, with our wet garments hanging before the fires. Thus was marred the afternoon of our third day.

We held a council of war in the parlor, and decided that the tour should continue if the morning proved fair, otherwise it was to be considered at an end. Morning came, and the rain was still falling. We bade farewell to each other, and sought our homes as each deemed best. A few of the more reckless riders mounted their wheels for another ride in the rain, but this time home was their destination. Many went home by train, and a few remained at Salem to await fair weather.

Thus ended the fourth North Shore tour of the ladies. We had two glorious days and much pleasant experience. We had one half-day of rare enjoyment on the rocks at Magnolia, and the monotony of our delight was relieved by our cycle bath. They were red-letter days for us all. Ye who tour by rail, by boat, or by carriage, know not one half the delight one gets on the wheel. If you would be convinced of this, come with us next year when we embark on the fifth annual tour.

[Illustration: Newburyport. Gloucester. Rockport. Magnolia. Beverly. Salem. Boston. Finale]

A LOVE LETTER.

Here is her note. See how the courier pen, All dizzy with delight, went zigzag down The road that leads to Eros’ happy town! See, here a steady pace; and here again A sudden forward bound, as if, just then, Her heart beat faster for the precious noun That brought him near! and there, to match a frown, A wavy course, as if doubt blurred his ken.

So, ever nearer to the self-same spot, Bearing the message of my sweetheart true, Her courier went rejoicing in his lot To have for heavens eyes of tender blue: Ah, Heart of mine! see, here’s a tiny blot-- A cloud for him--a tender tear for you.

_Frank Dempster Sherman._

[Illustration: Editor’s Open ~Window~.]

THE PAST CRICKET SEASON.

~The~ visit of the team of Irish amateur cricketers to the United States this past season resulted in affording further proof of the fact that Philadelphia is the home of cricket on this side of the Atlantic. While the Irish gentlemen had almost a walk-over in competing with the resident English cricketers of Canada, and were successful without difficulty against the selected teams of Boston and New York--though Boston gave them quite a close push--in Philadelphia alone were they opposed by elevens of native American cricketers only, whom they found their match. The success of the Philadelphia gentlemen in winning both of their games with the Irish visitors should encourage them to get up another team of American amateurs to cross the Atlantic again in 1889.

* * * * *

~A noteworthy~ fact in local cricket this past season was that the old St. George cricket field was once more the scene of a match between elevens of the St. George and Manhattan clubs. The members of the St. George Cricket Club have of late years become so absorbed in lawn tennis that they have sadly neglected the old, manly English game of cricket, which was the basis of their organization over thirty odd years ago.

~Henry Chadwick.~

* * * * *

IN THE FOOTBALL FIELD.

~For~ years before the adoption of the game of football in America our autumn season had no sport distinctively its own. Baseball dragged out a lingering existence as the hands grew numb in the frosty air. Boating shivered along into November in sweaters, but its life was frozen. Until the advent of football many of our best athletes, finding nothing to train for, strayed away from the strict regimen and early hours to the seductive tobacco and beer and all-night cards. Nor did they always return, for many refused to tear themselves away when the spring came, while still others, after the first few days of effort in the warm May weather, were so overcome with the longing for the flesh-pots that they would fall out of the ranks, never again to reappear. The athletes of to-day have an autumn sport the equal of any in enjoyment and the superior in helping symmetrical development. Nor is this the sole attraction. There is the generalship of a sport with room for all the planning of a real campaign. Its tactics are but half developed, and every year adds some new strategies.

The season of 1888 brought in a change of rules whereby there is a marked increase in the liberty allowed to comrades assisting a runner. Formerly the amount of aid they might render to one of their own men when he had the ball was so small that it was seldom attempted except in a crowd. The practice was to have all this done under the cover of the rushing and surging line of forwards, and at the time of the snap-back only. This led to many complications as the amount of interference grew gradually greater, owing to the leniency of umpires, until last season, when the play of all the teams in the field was characterized by the most marked and deliberate holding in the rush-line, oftentimes a runner was given an absolutely clean path through the forwards by having these opponents dragged out of the way by the men in front of him. Such was the state of affairs that the question of the day bade fair to become whether or not all the rushers could not be held so that the backs and halves would be the only ones left to tackle. This line of development was manifestly a bad one. Every move in that direction increased the personal contact of players who did not have the ball in their possession. It is and has been a noticeable fact in the history of the game in this country that whenever a rule has been passed which admitted of an increase in the liberty of laying hands upon a man who had not the ball, we have had a greater amount of “squabbling and slugging.” It seemed best, therefore to the Graduate Committee, who last year made the rules, to put forward changes which should effectually end this hand-slapping, pushing, and holding in the rush-line. In doing this, however, they wished to put no check upon what seemed by no means an objectionable feature, namely, assisting a runner by going alongside him and acting as an obstacle in the path of those advancing to tackle him.

The rules were altered accordingly, and the alteration has marked a decided advance in the sport. It has made the game more open by increasing the chances of a successful run. Nothing so delights the spectators as a long run. So keen is the excitement that it cannot be pent up, but must out, and while the partisans of the side against whom the run is being made stand holding their breath in fear lest the runner reach the goal, his sympathizers are crying out encouragement to him from all sides, and when at last he is brought to earth by some determined tackler, the sympathizing shouts are in their turn fairly drowned by the yell of exultation which goes up from the throats of the other party. While the kicking game is always a beautiful one to watch, it can never equal in excitement a game where long runs are made. The tedious game is the one which was played when the rules admitted of what was known as the “block game”--that is, where the ball was never advanced more than a yard without a “down,” and all the playing was in the centre. This style has fortunately been completely eliminated by the rules. The change of rules this year has again demonstrated the fact that the game is steadily advancing, and that every year brings it nearer and nearer that point of perfection so earnestly sought after by all its steadfast disciples, for no sport has more hearty, whole-souled followers, nor is there any so richly deserving them.

~Walter C. Camp.~

* * * * *

COLLEGE SPORTS.

~The~ limited time which students have had since their return from the summer vacation to indulge in their favorite pastimes, has not been productive of any achievements worthy of special mention. Many noted athletes were graduated in the class of ’88, and the Freshmen have hardly had the opportunity to show their mettle. To be sure, those semi-barbarous struggles known as rushes have taken place, and in many cases sophomoric dignity has had to suffer from freshman zeal, but such practices are frowned upon by college authorities and upper classmen. Very often serious injuries are inflicted, and what good is accomplished? None whatever. Want of organization always seriously interferes with the success of the new comers, and the frantic struggle, continued often for hours, to gain possession of and hold a two-foot cane can scarcely be called sport. Much better, because more satisfactory, are the class games of baseball and football. Here the freshmen are not so handicapped, because many of the men who go to college have received excellent preliminary training in the preparatory schools, and furthermore, these contests develop material for the college teams. Thus class feeling serves to call attention to and bring out men who can reflect honor to the college they represent in intercollegiate sports. A word with regard to these.

It is the opinion of many noted educators that such contests are detrimental to good scholarship. In the first place, the few who

## participate in them do not fairly represent the athletic development of

their respective colleges. The majority of students, after a week or two of enthusiasm for sport immediately after college has begun, do not go near the gymnasium, and can hardly be said to take any interest in sport at all. Again, it is claimed that when the time for the holding of these contests approaches, studies are neglected, because interests centre in the success of the teams.

The readers of ~Outing~ will be interested to learn the result of an investigation recently made at Cornell of the records of men who engaged in intercollegiate sports since the opening of the college. The result showed that the average scholarship of each man who rowed in the crews was 70 per cent., that of baseball players 73 per cent., and that of track athletes 76 per cent., a standard of 70 per cent. being necessary to graduate: 54 per cent. of all these men graduated, which is 7 per cent. above the University percentage of graduation. According to these figures, general scholarship does not suffer from intercollegiate contests, provided they are kept within reasonable limits. The standing in scholarship of noted athletes from Yale, Harvard and Princeton also shows that they are not strangers to hard study, while many of them are honor men and the winners of prizes in special departments of study.

~J. C. Gerndt.~

* * * * *

DOG CHAT.

~The~ present year will ever be memorable in the history of American “dogdom.” In it the battle between the American Kennel Club and its opponents has been inaugurated. The enforcement of “compulsory registration” in the American Kennel Club Stud Book, finally aroused the long suppressed popular indignation at the manifest incompetency of that body to administer its self-assumed control of kennel matters. The club’s action was, however, in a measure sustained by the brilliant success of the Westminster Kennel Club’s show, which was selected as the lists in which the initial contest of the rival factions was to be fought. So far, so good, for the A. K. C.

* * * * *

~The~ dog _breeders_ and exhibitors of America, however, have long felt that a body composed of individuals was necessary for the proper guidance of the kennel affairs of the continent, and to guard their interests. The American Kennel Club is a club composed of clubs. The local clubs are almost entirely made up of “dog lovers,” so called--men who own perhaps but one dog, many of them none, and who are utterly ignorant of dog matters in general, with perhaps one or two “prominent” dog-men who hold the reins of power. It will be seen, therefore, that as these few individuals are able to use the club name and influence, should they wish it, in the furtherance of their private ends, a dangerous amount of power is placed in their hands. The large majority of our leading breeders were unattached, many of them living at long distances from the headquarters of local clubs. They were, therefore, without representation in the government of matters canine. To remedy this evil and for the protection of breeders--the A. K. C. having exhibited a criminal want of concern in their interests--the National Dog Club was formed.

* * * * *

~The~ President, Dr. J. Frank Perry, better known as “Ashmont,” was the prime mover. In May last, acting in accordance with the wishes of many prominent gentlemen, he wrote to about fifty of the best known and most successful breeders and exhibitors in America and in Canada, requesting them to become charter members of a club, the initial meeting of which was to be held during the Boston show in April. Upwards of forty at once assented.

* * * * *

~At~ first the intention was to limit the membership to fifty; but it was afterwards deemed advisable to make it unlimited. Upwards of one hundred and fifty members are now enrolled, and this number includes a majority of the most prominent and reputable owners of the continent.

* * * * *

~From~ the outset the infant organization has had to contend against fierce opposition and prejudice, incited by the friends of the older club. But the promoters were not men to be easily turned aside from their purpose, and in consequence of their endeavors the most brilliant success has been achieved.

* * * * *

~The~ first show under the N. D. Club’s rules was that held by the International Fair Association, at Buffalo, and its enemies tried by every possible means to accomplish its ruin. Not only did they “boycott” the show, but they neglected no course by which they could injure it. Their defeat was a signal one.

* * * * *

~The~ Buffalo show was the best in the quality of dogs entered of any show ever held outside New York or Boston, and indeed was but little behind those giant rivals. The management, it is true, was execrable; but that cannot be cited against the N. D. C.

* * * * *

~Honors~ are easy, therefore, between the rival factions, although the fair-minded onlooker cannot but admit that the members of the N. D. C. have set an example by their temperate and gentlemanly behavior in the contest which their rivals by no means followed.

* * * * *

~Yet~ another National Kennel organization has been born within the year, namely, the Canadian Kennel Club. A meeting of Canadian dog-men was held for the purpose during the London, Ont., Show, and the club was organized with Lord Stanley (Governor-General), Hon. President; Mr. A. Gibson, London (of McEwen & Gibson, the leading collie breeders), president; U. S. Jackson, Toronto (of Bedlington terrier fame), first vice; Mr. M. Baumgarten, Montreal, second vice; Mr. Thos. Johnston, Winnipeg, third vice; Mr. F. C. Wheeler, London, secretary-treasurer; and Mr. C. M. Mills, Brantford (owner of the celebrated Brant Cocker Kennels); Mr. F. H. F. Mercer, Ottawa (invincible in clumber spaniels); Mr. W. B. Wells, Chatham; Mr. W. Hendrie, Hamilton; Mr. J. S. Campbell, Simcoe (widely known for his Gordon setters); Dr. Niven, London (of Gordon setter and spaniel renown); and Mr. F. Mills, Hamilton, executive committee. This array of names, embracing as it does nearly all the most prominent Canuck doggy men, may be taken as a guarantee of success, and I trust the new club will fulfil its fair promise.

~Dogwhip.~

* * * * *

THE PAST BASEBALL SEASON.

~The~ success of the New York Club in winning the championship of the League for 1888 opens a new era in the contests for the pennant. From 1872 to 1876 the Boston Club held the professional championship. But in 1876, under the auspices of the newly organized National League, the Chicago Club went to the front, and since then that club has almost monopolized pennant honors in the League, Boston winning but three times since 1876, while Providence was successful twice. Now, however, the trophy has come East once more. The struggle was virtually confined to a quintet of the eight competing clubs, viz., the New York, Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia and Boston clubs. Finally the contest for the pennant lay between but three of them, while Pittsburgh, Indianapolis and Washington were tail-enders throughout of the eight competitors.

* * * * *

“~Four~ times winner” is the honor claimed by the St. Louis Club, the champion winners of 1888 in the American Association. This result was mainly due to the important fact that the St. Louis Club was the only one which presented for the pennant race a well-managed and ably-captained team, all the others being to a greater or less extent merely picked nines of star players. In no season has the fact that team work--alike at the bat and in the field--is the most important element of success in winning championship honors, been more strikingly illustrated than in the race for the American Association championship of 1888.

* * * * *

~Among~ the many clubs organized for the promotion of healthy outdoor recreation, no feature has been more conducive to the best interests of gentlemanly sports in the metropolitan district than the friendly rivalry between the Staten Island Cricket and Baseball Association and the Staten Island Athletic Club. Both organizations have secured handsome grounds and club-houses. During the past season they have given their members attractive exhibitions of amateur play on their baseball, football, lacrosse and tennis fields. The former club, however, has had an advantage in its cricket team, a game the Athletic Club has not yet developed. The greatest attraction in their field games has been their baseball exhibitions, which have surpassed those of any other amateur organizations in the country except the representatives of Harvard, Yale and Princeton colleges.

* * * * *

~The~ national game has at last become fashionable as one of the sports at Newport. During the autumn a syndicate of admirers of the game among the Newport cottage residents was formed to purchase a plot of ground and lay out a baseball park to be ready for the season of 1889. A diamond field is to be made and a grand-stand erected. Match games will be played there by the rival college nines of Harvard, Yale and Princeton next summer.

* * * * *

~The~ Boston ball grounds were the most liberally patronized last season of those only boasting a National League club. The attendance at the Boston-Chicago games during the season alone reached a total of 59,020 people. This shows that it has paid to construct the handsome ball grounds.

~Henry Chadwick.~

* * * * *

SKATING.

~The~ season of winter sports has opened in a way that promises greater opportunities for indulgence in the fascinations of skating than have been afforded for the last few years. Whether this fair promise will be verified or not remains to be seen, but the enthusiastic skater must have been indulging in pleasurable anticipation of the joys of his favorite pastime.

Great, however, as is the individual enthusiasm in regard to this recreation, there seems to be a lack of concerted effort to give the sport the prominent place which it deserves. In England the prospects of good ice are anxiously watched every season, in order that contests, not only between the great skaters of England may be brought off, but also that international races between such champions as “Fish” Smart, and the pick of the Dutch and Scandinavian skaters, may take place. Considering the very limited chances afforded by English weather, the old country may well be proud of the feats performed by her sons. Why, then, may not America do far greater things? And not only in the professional, or semi-professional field, is there a chance for improvement, but there is a noticeable lack of energy in arranging races between amateurs. Surely skating can be made the vehicle for a winter athletic meeting, when running, jumping, etc., are put out of the question by the severity of the weather. We hope to see during this winter contests of this description taking place.

~Sporting Tramp.~

[Illustration: ~The Outing Club.~]

THE SCIENTIFIC VIEW OF THE CYCLE.

~Wheelmen~ will read with interest the following quotation from Sir Frederick Bramwell’s address to the British Association at Bath, England:

“Consider the bicycles and tricycles of to-day--machines which afford the means of healthful exercise to thousands, and which will, probably within a very short time, prove of the very greatest possible use for military purposes. The perfection to which these machines have been brought is almost entirely due to strict attention to detail; in the selection of the material of which the machines are made; in the application of pure science (in its strictest sense) to the form and to the proportioning of these parts, and also in the arrangement of these various parts in relation the one to the other. The result is that the greatest possible strength is afforded with only the least possible weight, and that friction in working has been reduced to a minimum. All of us who remember the hobby-horse of former years, and who contrast that machine with the bicycle and tricycle of the present day, realize how thoroughly satisfactory is the result of this attention to detail--this appreciation of the ‘next to nothing.’”

A YACHT-TRIP ROUND THE GLOBE.

~We~ are pleased to hear from Hong Kong that the American yacht _Coronet_--the winner of the yacht race across the Atlantic last spring--arrived safely at Yokohama, Japan, en route round the world. We next expect to hear from the _Coronet_ at Singapore, then at Bombay, from which latter port the yacht will proceed to England, via the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean Sea.

FIGHT BETWEEN A VIPER AND A HEDGEHOG.

~The~ Copenhagen _Jagttidente_ recently contained the following curious account of a fight between a viper and a hedgehog, as related by Dr. Bilandt, a Danish naturalist:

“One hot day, about noon, on the Billeslund estate, I espied a hedgehog in a meadow with its eyes fixed intently on some spot in a hedge close by, and, by following its gaze, I saw a viper lying on the bank curled up, sunning itself. I sat down on the grass to watch them. For quite an hour the two combatants remained immovable, the hedgehog keeping a steady eye upon his prey. Then suddenly the viper began to move exactly in the direction of his foe. The hedgehog let it nearly pass, when, swift as lightning, it darted forwards, and, having seized the viper by the tip of its tail with its teeth, rolled himself up. The viper writhed under the bite, and dashed its body repeatedly against the quills of the hedgehog till blood flowed, and in a short space of time it had practically committed suicide. The hedgehog then devoured its prey, from the tail upward, carrying away what he could not consume.”

GLASS-BALL SHOOTING EXTRAORDINARY.

~An~ incident in rifle-shooting this season was the feat accomplished by the well-known rifle-shot, Dr. F. W. Carver, who, in October, at the Pittsburgh Exposition Park, surpassed all previous efforts in rifle-shooting. Dr. Carver had made a bet of $100 with Adam Forepaugh, Jr., that he would break six glass balls thrown into the air simultaneously before they fell to the ground. The shooting was done with a Spencer repeating rifle in the presence of a few invited guests. Dr. Carver had not the slightest trouble in performing the feat, repeating it four times in succession. The doctor was not satisfied with this, but threw up seven balls at once, all of which he perforated before they fell to the ground. The cartridges used in these rifle-shooting exhibitions, however, are not simply made of powder and balls. They are prepared with shot in the place of bullets. Even with shot the feat is remarkable; with bullets it would be an impossibility.

THE NOVELTY IN WHEEL MACHINES.

~With~ a flourish of trumpets, the advent of the road-sculler was heralded into public notice. How far the machine will attain the great popularity which its sponsors expect for it remains to be seen. No one will attempt to deny that it has real merits; whether, however, the machine has attained anything like its highest point of perfection seems uncertain. During the contest between all the noted scullers of the world at Madison Square Garden, there was undoubtedly far too high an average of breakages, which, indeed, seriously interfered with the interest of the show. But the average mortal is not such a creature of thews and sinews as the grand specimens of humanity who entered into that competition. Moreover, the ordinary use of the machine will not be for racing purposes, but simply as a means of pleasure and locomotion, and, therefore, the frailer parts of the mechanism will not be put to such undue strain. The question also arises whether the exercise is identical with sculling a boat, and the answer to this appears decidedly to be that it only comprises a portion of the muscular action necessary in sculling proper. At least two motions are absent, viz., the act of feathering, and dropping the hands at the end of the stroke. The action is a straight pull and a straight return. The natural inclination on the part of an expert oarsman to drop his hands was plainly observable, and possibly may have accounted for some of the accidents which happened to the steel ropes. The general conclusion will, however, be that the essential element which has gained rowing such a prominent place among athletic sports--the exercising of every muscle in the body, both arms and legs--is far from being lost, and this is a point which is lacking in both bicycle and tricycle.

OUR THEATRICAL PLAYGROUND.

THE FRENCH PLAYERS AT PALMER’S.

~A French~ company headed by M. Coquelin of the Théâtre Française and Madame Jane Hading, of the Gymnase, Paris, made their American début at Palmer’s, October 8th. Palmer’s Theatre! How strange the name seems as it appears in print! It takes the place of “Wallack’s”--a name around which cluster the traditions of a playhouse that was the delight of New Yorkers for over a generation. Well! “the king is dead,” and close upon his burial came the comedians of France, to entertain an American public with French works in the home of English Comedy. M. Coquelin inaugurated the French season with Molière’s “Les Prècieuses Ridicules,” a couple of monologues, and a one-act piece, “La Joie Fait Peur,” made familiar to theatre-goers by Boucicault under the title of “Kerry.” New York gave the foreign players on the first night a welcome which assured them at once of the friendly spirit of an American audience. The visit of the Coquelin-Hading Company to this country, it is to be hoped, will be productive of good results. It was refreshing to be able to witness a dramatic representation by a good company, where scenery and costumes were secondary considerations. Coquelin in his acting demonstrates close study of his art in every detail. As a comedian, he is unapproachable. But when M. Coquelin attempts the heroes of romance he fails. The company engaged to support, though not particularly strong, have acquired much of the spirit of Coquelin’s acting. When one considers the elaborate productions of the American stage and compares them with the freedom from such show with which similar plays may be given, when acting is not subordinated to scenery and dry goods, the question naturally suggests itself, Is not much of this extravagant display in many of our theatres a mistake? The scene painter and costumer of to-day are of more account in a comic opera, for instance, than a prima donna. An opera may be produced with a prima donna devoid of singing voice, if she has shape, good looks, and sparse raiment to recommend her, but without elaborate scenery, and plenty of color and show, it would not run a fortnight. A similar state of affairs exists on the dramatic stage. It takes a small fortune to keep up the stage wardrobe of any actress who is called upon to play the heroine or a lady of fashion in modern plays. One of the brightest and most accomplished actresses of the American stage recently, after a great success in a part, on being complimented by a friend, accepted the compliment graciously enough, but felt considerably piqued because the critics did not notice the nice new frocks she had had made for the part, and which she expected to see praised quite as much as her

## acting. If the advent of M. Coquelin and Mme. Hading to this country

will tend to correct some of these weaknesses, their coming among us will be of more benefit than was anticipated by their managers when the engagement was projected.

RE-OPENING OF DALY’S THEATRE.

Augustine Daly opened the doors of his theatre, Tuesday evening, October 9, with an adaptation from the French of the comedy “Les Surprises du Divorce.” Mr. Daly calls his work “The Lottery of Love.” It was enthusiastically received on the first night, and it grew in favor with subsequent repetition. During the season it is the intention of Mr. Daly to produce, in addition to the more pretentious part of his plans, a number of short one-act comedies. They will precede the important attraction of the night’s entertainment. These “curtain raisers,” as some writer has christened them, are oftentimes very enjoyable. One of the most pleasing recollections of the last theatrical season was the presentation of “Editha’s Burglar,” at the Lyceum.

“LORD CHUMLEY” SOTHERN.

Speaking of the Lyceum, calls to mind the success of young Sothern in “Lord Chumley.” Since the first night he appeared in the comedy, he has crowded the handsome little theatre with well pleased auditors. The success is due more to the acting and personality of Mr. Sothern as the young lord, who is not such a fool as he looks, than to the merits of the play or the acting of the company. Young Sothern’s “Lord Chumley” is as good in its way as was the elder Sothern’s “Lord Dundreary.” The play of “Lord Chumley” is a piece of literary patchwork, rather skillfully put together, and afterward run through the sieve of thorough rehearsals. Daniel Frohman may be congratulated on the success of his promising young star and the good fortune he has brought to the Lyceum.

THE PROSPERITY OF “A LEGAL WRECK.”

William Gillette’s victory with “A Legal Wreck,” in the very theatre--the Madison Square--in which his first play, “The Professor,” was brought before the footlights was complete. “A Legal Wreck” is not a great play, and Mr. Gillette did not aim to make it so. He did, however, attempt to make an interesting drama, and succeeded. Since its first night it has steadily improved. Judicious cutting down, and alterations in the stage business, have made it an effective acting play. When it is taken from the Madison Square Theatre and sent to other cities, it will meet with as much favor as here. When “A Legal Wreck” was first put on the stage it was not expected to be played more than a few weeks. It has exceeded expectations, and will run Mr. Gillette’s entire season out. A. M. Palmer’s follows with the regular Madison Square Company in a revival of “Partners,” after which he will produce “Captain Swift,” an English drama of the “Jim the Penman” order, which is highly spoken of by people who have seen it in London.

~Richard Neville.~

[Illustration]

[Illustration: ~Among the Books~]

~A story~ of the rough life of the ranch in the Far West, clad, so to speak, in “purple and fine linen,” appears at first sight to be somewhat of an anomaly. In this case, however, the contents are worthy of the binding, and the story is not thrown into a shadowy background by its luxurious and sumptuous equipment. “Ranch Life and the Hunting-Trail,” by Theodore Roosevelt, has already made its bow to the public in a series of papers issued in the _The Century_ magazine, and the verdict has been given in its favor. Now it is published in a veritable _édition de luxe_ by _The Century_ Company. The story loses nothing of its merits in the process, while Mr. Frederic Remington’s spirited and characteristic illustrations, so familiar to the readers of ~Outing~, are shown to the greatest possible advantage.

* * * * *

~With~ the advance of popular education has arisen a demand for standard historical works, which, avoiding diffusiveness and elaboration of details, give the reader broad inductions and concise results. The student of the present day requires a book which may be regarded as absolutely authentic, and which will present to him, not elaborate historical dissertations on knotty historical periods, but able summaries and careful generalizations of the whole subject. Such a work is the “Cyclopædia of Universal History,” by John Clark Ridpath, LL.D. (The Jones Brothers Publishing Co., Cincinnati, and Phillips & Hunt, New York), and it is by far the most successful effort which has been hitherto made to supply this want of the modern student and the average American citizen. The handsome appearance of the three volumes, and the copious wealth of excellent illustrations, numbering twelve hundred, vastly enhance the effect and merits of the text.

* * * * *

~The~ South, at the present time, would appear to be the coming nursery of our light literature. The novels which have, of late, created the greatest stir--whether by their genuine merits or their sensationalism we do not propose to decide--have sprung from Southern brains. Yet another work--and this, we believe, is a maiden effort--by an author who hails from Tennessee, lies before us. But in “A Seaside Romance,” by William Perry Brown (New York: John B. Alden, 1888), there is nothing of the morbidly sensational. Though hardly to be classed as a notable novel, or likely to create a great stir, it is a pleasant, healthful story of Southern life. The characters are well drawn, though some are rather thinly delineated, and a certain lack of vigor is discernible in the action in places. It is, however, essentially a book to afford a reader a pleasant hour or two.

* * * * *

~A slight~ infusion of medical science into a novel often proves both instructive and interesting. But experiments of this character require to be conducted with great care and judgment. Such can hardly be said to be the case in “From the Beaten Path,” by Edward R. Roe (Chicago: Laird Lee, 1888). Medical horrors are crowded into the volume, and the reader is confronted with _cholera infantum_ (symptoms fully described), a most unpleasant affection of the eyes, and blindness resulting from rheumatism, within the first two chapters, while dislocations, sprains, fevers, consumption, and drunkenness--culminating in _mania a potu_--with a slight spice of body-snatching, are negligently scattered through the pages. Thrilling incidents are pitchforked into odd corners, and the thread of the story is quite disconnected. The motive of the book would appear to be the disparagement of allopathy, and commendation of faith-healing allied to magnetic influences. The extreme ease with which the cures are performed will, however, prove a somewhat hard pill for most people to swallow.

* * * * *

~Sportsmen~ owe a debt of gratitude to any one who facilitates their quest of sport. This object should be vastly furthered by a little volume entitled “The Sportsman’s Guide,” compiled and edited by William C. Harris, editor of _The American Angler_ (New York: The Anglers’ Publishing Company, Chas. T. Dillingham). The enormous number of hunting-grounds from which the sportsman has to choose are tabulated, and all necessary information regarding them given. The reports appear to be very accurate, the material being, for the most part, derived from personal letters from individuals acquainted with the localities. The condition of the shooting, whether good, bad, or indifferent, is plainly stated.

* * * * *

~The~ fascination of that charming amusement, amateur photography, year by year enlists a vast number of recruits for the already great army of amateur photographers. To such recruits, good textbooks are an indispensable feature, and for this purpose we can heartily recommend “The Photographic Instructor” (New York: Scovill Manufacturing Co., 1888). The volume consists of “the comprehensive series of practical lessons issued to the students of the Chautauqua School of Photography,” edited by W. I. Lincoln Adams, editor of _The Photographic Times_, with an appendix by Prof. Charles Ehrmann. It forms one of Scovill’s Complete Photographic Series.

~A little~ handbook is issued by the Red Star Line of steamers entitled “Facts for Travelers.” In the mixture of useful and amusing matter contained in it, travelers are sure to find something worth noticing.

* * * * *

~A souvenir~ of the Montreal Amateur Athletic Association’s Fair has reached us, entitled “Athletic Leaves.” The editors are Samuel L. Baylis and William H. Whyte, and they have produced a very bright, readable little volume, with notably good illustrations.

[Illustration: Amenities.]

RONDEAU.

[Illustration]

~Her~ starry eyes, with lightning glance, Arrest me like a swift-thrown lance, As I ride down the narrow lane; And backward on my wheel I crane, Another glimpse to catch askance.

My fickle steed begins to prance, And leads me such a lively dance, That danger signals glint in vain, Her starry eyes.

O Fortune! if, by happy chance, You’d throw this fair one in a trance, Until I tumble on the plain-- But no! she cries a laughing rain-- A header dims my brief romance, Her starry eyes.

And now whene’er I pass the seat Where first I met that maiden sweet, My aching heart is smote again; The blush of shame o’ermounts my brow, And bids me soft repeat the vow, Her starry eyes.

_Jay Gee._

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Editor’s Scrap Book]

~First Baseball Player~: Did you go to Shortstop’s wedding to-day?

~Second Baseball Player~: Of course I did.

~First Player~: How did it come off?

~Second Player~: Declared a tie.--_Once a Week._

* * * * *

~A Cape Cod~ fisherman calls his boat “The Kiss,” because it is nothing but a smack.--_Puck._

* * * * *

~Many~ large wagers are chronicled from time to time, but Queen Elizabeth still remains the greatest Bet in history.--_Exchange._

* * * * *

~Dealer~ (_to clerk_): I’m going to make those boys’ diagonal suits fifteen dollars to-morrow.

~Clerk~: Fifteen dollars! Why, we’ve been selling them for ten dollars right along.

~Dealer~: I know it; but I’m going to give away a baseball bat with each one of them free of charge.--_Detroit Free Press._

* * * * *

~Lady~ (_to negro cook_): Can you poach eggs, Sambo?

~Sambo~: ’Deed I kin, missy, when dey grows up.--_Time._

* * * * *

~Cholly~: I say, Binx, did you ever witness a burial at sea?

~Binx~: No, never saw a burial, but we had a wake behind us all the way over last trip.--_Harper’s Bazar._

* * * * *

“~What’s~ up, Billy?”

“Fut ball.”

“Well, ’fore I’d set up there in the cold watchin’ a lot of fellers kick a ball up--”

“Ain’t watchin’ em kick no ball up; watchin’ of ’em kick each other down!”--_Harper’s Weekly._

* * * * *

~A lost~ curve in baseball--the Arc that Noah pitched.--_Puck._

* * * * *

“~Well~, Tompkins, how did you come out at the last race meeting?” asked a traveling man of a friend.

“As nearly as I can figure it, I came out about $1,500 ahead.”

“Fifteen hundred! That’s not bad. What horses did you back?”

“None. I had about $1,500 with me that I did not bet.”--_Merchant Traveler._

* * * * *

“~What~ shall I play?” asked a meek-looking newly-appointed organist, of a parson of a rather festive turn of mind when off duty.

“That depends on the kind of a hand you have,” responded his reverence, in the most innocent manner.

* * * * *

~The~ man who is wild on the subject of yachting is an ultra-marine.--_Puck._

* * * * *

~Spirits~ probably walk about for exorcise.--_Life._

* * * * *

~The~ yellow dog contemplates with satisfaction the advance in the price of tin cans. It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good.--_Life._

* * * * *

“~Do~ you ever bet on the races, stranger?” he asked, as the boat approached Bay Ridge.

“I used to, but it cost me too much money.”

“You are a business man, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir; I sell ‘tips.’ I can give you a sure ten-to-one winner, to-day--only twenty-five cents.”--_Time._

* * * * *

REFLECTIONS OF A CAT.

~The~ nicest bed is a pan of rising bread.

The old maid is the cat’s good Samaritan.

If it wasn’t for the rat I would be an outcast.

I think I have a pretty nose when it isn’t scratched.

The oven was about the hottest place I was ever in.

I am blamed for a great many things the girl breaks.

In all my experience I never yet saw a cat hit with a bootjack.

Every cat that gets on our back fence doesn’t come to see me.

When people go to sit down they never see I am asleep in the chair.

When I can’t get the ribbon off my neck I try to drag it in the dirt.

If I hadn’t talons the small boy would find no fun in pulling my tail.

The sailor is the only one who would sooner have a rat than a cat around.

The missis and I can never agree as to the place where I shall bring up my kittens.

Missis used to leave me only one kitten until after she had twins herself, and then she left me two.--_Judge._

[Illustration: ~Our MONTHLY RECORD~]

~This~ department of ~Outing~ is specially devoted to paragraphs of the doings of members of organized clubs engaged in the reputable sports of the period, and also to the recording of the occurrence of the most prominent events of the current season. On the ball-fields it will embrace _Cricket_, _Baseball_, _Lacrosse_ and _Football_. On the bays and rivers, _Yachting_, _Rowing_ and _Canoeing_. In the woods and streams, _Hunting_, _Shooting_ and _Fishing_. On the lawns, _Archery_, _Lawn Tennis_ and _Croquet_. Together with Ice-Boating, Skating, Tobogganing, Snowshoeing, Coasting, and winter sports generally.

Secretaries of clubs will oblige by sending in the names of their presidents and secretaries, with the address of the latter, together with the general result of their most noteworthy contests of the month, addressed, “Editor of ~Outing~,” 239 Fifth Avenue, New York.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

_All communications intended for the Editorial Department should be addressed to “The Editor,” and not to any person by name. Advertisements, orders, etc., should be kept distinct, and addressed to the manager. Letters and inquiries from anonymous correspondents will not receive attention. All communications to be written on one side of the paper only._

ATHLETICS.

~The~ Pavilion Pastime Club, of Brooklyn--a new organization--started in August last with a membership of twelve, has rapidly increased, and now numbers over seventy. Its grounds on Arlington Avenue, Jerome and Barbey streets, have been frequented daily by enthusiastic lovers of outdoor sports. The club has developed a number of excellent tennis players, among whom are the Misses Milan, the Misses Crawford, Miss Pattison, Miss Hart, Rev. R. H. Baker, Messrs. C. Palmer, J. H. Webster, and C. Wheeler. October 13, an evenly contested set was played on the grounds, Miss Alice Linton and Mr. J. A. Cruikshank defeating Miss Edith Linton and Dr. H. O. Rockefeller after a very interesting set, the score being 7-5.

* * * * *

~A general~ meeting of the N. A. A. A. A. was held at the Grand Union Hotel, in this city, on the evening of October 6. The constitution and bylaws were revised. The alterations made were of a radical character, and a general movement of reform was inaugurated. The following clubs had delegates present: Missouri Amateur Athletic Club, Manhattan Athletic Club, Intercollegiate Athletic Association, Star Athletic Club, West Side Athletic Club, and Allerton Athletic Club. The matter of changing the rules governing weight competitions was referred to the executive committee, with power. The Intercollegiate Athletic Association will in future be entitled to one representative on the executive committee for every five colleges. This will increase the college representation to four. The Allerton Athletic Club, of New York City, was elected to membership, and other clubs will be proposed at the next meeting of the executive committee. The following meetings, under N. A. A. A. A. auspices, were announced: The Association championship was to take place positively, rain or shine, at the M. A. C. grounds, October 13. The Allerton Athletic Club games, open to all amateurs, was to take place at Madison Square Garden during November; the M. A. C. Winter games, open to all amateurs, same place, during December; the Star Athletic Club winter games, open to all amateurs, at same place, during January; the West Side Athletic Club games, open to all amateurs, at same place, during February. The International Athletic meeting, open to all amateurs, will take place on the Saturday before the Intercollegiate championship meeting at the M. A. C. grounds. In this meeting there will be fourteen scratch events, and the winner of each event will be entitled to go to Europe on the N. A. A. A. A. championship team, which team will compete at the English and Irish championships and at the international championship meeting at the Paris Exposition. The team will also take part in special meetings gotten up under the auspices of the National associations of the different countries. Among other large subscriptions, G. M. L. Sacks gives $500 towards the expenses of the team. The Columbia College Athletic Association will give its fall games under Intercollegiate Athletic Association rules. The entries of the N. A. A. A. A. athletes will be accepted in the open events. Other clubs and associations have expressed their intention of holding games under N. A. A. A. A. laws.

* * * * *

~The~ Perth Amboy, N. J., Athletic Association have elected the following officers for the ensuing year: William H. McCormick president; Mayor Thomas Armstrong, vice-president; Fred. F. Fox, secretary and treasurer.

* * * * *

~An~ exhibition was given by the athletic team of the Irish Gaelic Association at the Baseball grounds, Newark, N. J., October 20. Results were as follows:

100-yards run--J. Connelly, first, no time being taken; T. J. Maloney, second.

Hop, step and jump--Daniel Shanahan, first, 49 ft. 7½ in.; P. Looney second.

Running long jump--D. Shanahan, first, 22 ft. 2 in.; J. Connelly, second, 21 ft.

Putting the 56-pound weight--J. S. Mitchell cleared 25 ft. 9 in. in the American style, and 32 ft. 5 in. according to Irish rules, J. C. Daly being second, with 24 ft. 2 in. and 30 ft. 7 in. respectively.

Quarter-mile run--N. J. Kearns first, in 54s.; F. Conklin, second, close up.

Throwing the 16-pound hammer from 9-ft. circle--J. S. Mitchell, first, 133 ft., the throw being made with a turn; J. C. Daly, second, 114 ft. 7 in.

Running high jump--O’Connor, first, 5 ft. 9½ in.; Connery, second, 5 ft. 3½ in.

The sports were brought to a close with the usual hurling match, which was watched with interest.

* * * * *

~The~ members of the Young Men’s Christian Association of Yonkers, N. Y., held their fall games October 20, the events resulting as follows:

100-yards run, for boys--N. A. Ball, first, in 12½s.; G. W. Stephens second.

Running long jump--G. A. Gahagan, first, 22 ft. 9½ in.; G. P. Holden second.

220-yards run, boys--N. A. Ball, won in 28½s.

One mile run--Alexander Grieve, first, in 5m. 22s.; N. P. French second.

Running high jump--G. P. Holden won, 4 ft. 7 in.

100-yards run--M. Frazier, first; J. Atkinson second.

Half-mile run--F. A. Ware won, in 2m. 6½s.

One mile walk--Frank Brown, first, in 7m. 52½s.; C. L. Nicoll second.

Tug-of-war--Brooklyn Y. M. C. A. beat Yonkers Y. M. C. A. by a yard.

* * * * *

~The~ new athletic grounds, located at Morris Dock, on the Harlem River, were opened October 20, by the Berkeley Athletic Club. The opening event was a football match between teams representing the Berkeley Club and the St. John’s College of Sing Sing, which the latter won by a score of four touchdowns to nothing. The old Harvard champion sprinter, Wendell Baker, then attempted to surpass the record for running 280 yards, 29 4-5s., being assisted by his brother Fred, the latter receiving thirty yards start, and himself essaying to beat White’s 251-yard record of 31¼s. Owing to the heaviness of the track both failed, although Wendell lowered the record for the lesser distance to 26 3-5s. His time for 280 yards was 31 1-5s., while Fred’s time for 251 yards was 31 2-5s. Then A. F. Copeland, of the Manhattan Athletic Club, was successful in an attempt to break the hurdling records at 75, 100 and 120 yards, timers being stationed at the intermediate distances, and the new figures established being respectively 8 3-5s., 12 4-5s. and 14 3-5s., the hurdles being 2 ft. 6 in. in height. The event taken altogether was a great success.

* * * * *

~The~ fourth annual fall games of the Missouri Amateur Athletic Club took place at the Sportsman’s Park, St. Louis, October 14. The weather was not favorable, and the attendance was small. A large delegation from Chicago was present, and it must have been gratified at the way the Chicago athletes distinguished themselves in the contests in carrying off four firsts and five seconds. The games resulted as follows:

100-yards run, _first heat_--Emile Reder, M. A. A. C., 5½ yards, won, 10 2-5s.; Walt Farrant, Chicago, 6½ yards, second, by six inches. _Second heat_--Ed. Sampson, M. A. A. C., 9 yards, won, 10 4-5s.; Ed. Smith, Chicago, 4½ yards and set back one, second, by two feet. _Third heat_--A. C. Wignall, Chicago, 4½ yards, won, 10 3-5s.; A. J. Hellmich, M. A. A. C., 7 yards, second, by a yard. _Fourth heat_--D. L. Cabanne, Pastime A. C., 9 yards, won, 10 3-5s.; George Mark, M. A. A. C., 9 yards, second, by a foot. _Fifth heat_--John C. Meyers, M. A. A. C., 10 yards, won, 10 2-5s.; H. G. Perry, Chicago, 4 yards, second, by a yard. _Final heat_--Cabanne, won, 10 2-5s.; Wignall second, by a half-yard; Sampson third, Meyers fourth.

Weight contest for height--George Riddle easily won the 56-pound weight contest for height, tossing the missile over the bar at 10 ft. 5 in., with Dan Leahy second, three inches less. Riddle afterward threw 11 ft. 1 in. and is good for much higher. Three others competed.

Running high kick--A. C. Baum, of the Missouri A. A. C., easily won the running high kick with 8 ft. 11 in.; George Powell, same club, second, at 8 ft. 8 in. Baum then tried for a record, and did 9 ft. 5½ in. C. C. Lee, of Yale College, holds the world’s record, 9 ft. 8 in. H. G. Perry, of Chicago, also competed.

440-yards run, handicap--_First heat_--W. S. Farrant, Chicago, 25 yards, won, 53 1-5s.; W. T. Nolan, M. A. A. C., 8 yards, second; R. J. Leacock, M. A. A. C., 20 yards, third. _Second heat_--J. C. Meyers, M. A. A. C., 30 yards, won, 52s.; James Price, Chicago, 30 yards, second; A. J. Hellmich, M. A. A. C., third. _Final heat_--Farrant won, 51 1-5s.; Leacock, second, by three yards; Price, third, by two yards. The start was too great for Farrant. Leacock’s effort was a good one, but he had hard work beating Price.

Mile walk, handicap--H. H. Hentrichs, M. A. A. C., 125 yards, won easily by twenty yards, 7m. 45s.; Ed. Gaines, M. A. A. C., scratch, second. Two others started, but both stopped.

Mile run, handicap--Arthur Hunn, M. A. A. C., 110 yards, won easily by ten yards, 4m. 43 2-5s.; R. K. McCullough, Chicago, 120 yards, a strong second; T. K. Henderson, Chicago, scratch, third, by twenty yards. The latter ran a game race.

Hurdle race, 220 yards, handicap--The _first heat_ was a walk-over for George Mark, 15 yards, and A. J. Hellmich, 15 yards, in 30 3-5s. The _second heat_ was won by Ed. Smith, Chicago, scratch, in 30 4-5s.; D. L. Cabanne, Pastime A. C., 15 yards, second; J. C. Meyers, 15 yards, third. _Final heat_--Mark won by two yards in 28 1-5s.; Smith second; Hellmich third, by ten yards.

George Powell took the high jump with an actual jump of 5 ft. 9¼ in., George Riddle, Chicago, six inches, second, 5 ft. 9 in.

Half-mile run, scratch--Ed. Baker, Chicago, won, 2m. 6 1-5s.; T. T. Lingo, St. Louis, second, by five yards.; W. T. Nolan, M. A. A. C., third, beaten off. R. J. Leacock, M. A. A. C., also started.

Hop, step and jump--Chas. Bayer, Jr., 4 feet, won, 43 ft. 11½ in.; A. C. Wignall, Chicago, 4 feet, second, 43 ft. 9 in.

The members’ race was taken by A. H. Hitchings, in 37 2-5s.; B. A. McFadden second, by a yard.

John C. Meyers won the amusing obstacle race in easy style, with F. H. Armfield second, and Arthur Hunn third.

* * * * *

~The~ fall games of the Columbia Athletic Club, of Washington, D. C., were held on Analostan Island, in the Potomac River, October 6. The weather was disagreeable, and though the attendance of visitors was comparatively small, the games themselves were a success. The grounds and track were in fairly good condition, and the events resulted as follows:

100-yards run--Samuel King first, in 10 2-5s.; L. T. Reed, second by a yard.

Two-mile bicycle race, lap--W. E. Crist first, 26 points; Phil. Brown second.

120-yards hurdle race--Lee Harban first, in 18 3-5s.; McCawley second.

One mile walk--A. T. Stoutenburg first, in 9m. 15s.; O’Leary second.

Bicycle race, mile, novice--W. E. Bell, first, in 3m. 25 1-5s.; T. Hodgson second.

220-yards run--Sam. King, first, in 23s.; L. T. Reed, second.

One mile bicycle race--L. J. Barber, 75 yards start, first, in 2m. 47 4-5s.; W. E. Crist, scratch, second.

220-yard run--Sam King first, in 55 3-5s.

One mile run--J. M. Kenyon, first, Lee Harban second.

Throwing the hammer--T. C. Chalmers, first, 62 ft. 8 in.; Van Rensselaer, second, 60 ft. 2 in.

Standing high jump--Robert Elder, first, 4 ft. 4 in.

Running long jump--S. E. Lewis, first, 20 ft.

Putting the shot--L. T. Reed, first, 34 ft. 7 in.

Running high jump--W. E. Buell, first, 5 ft.

Standing long jump--Robert Elder, 9 ft. 10 in.

Pole vault--Telfair Hodgson, first, 7 ft. 8 in.

Tug-of-war--Fat men defeated lean men.

* * * * *

~The~ thirteenth annual meeting of the National Association of Amateur Athletes, for the Amateur Championship of America, was held October 13, on the Manhattan Athletic Club Grounds. The Irish athletes proved superior in three events--the 440-yards run, the running high jump, and throwing the fifty-six pound weight. In putting the shot, the method of J. S. Mitchell of the Irish team was objected to and he withdrew from the contest. He made one effort, however, that was allowed to count, and that gave him second place. In throwing the fifty-six pound weight he lowered the American record six and three-quarter inches. W. J. Barry, also of the Irish team, threw the sixteen-pound hammer 120 ft. 11 in., as an exhibition of his own method of throwing. Conneff, of the M. A. C., had an easy victory in the five-mile run, winning by over a quarter of a mile. Results were as follows:

100-yards run, _first heat_--Walk-over for F. Westing, M. A. C. _Second heat_--A. F. Copeland, M. A. C., first. Time, 10 2-5s. _Third heat_--V. E. Shifferstein, Olympic A. C., California, first. Time, 10 3-5s. Trial heat for second men--J. Mooney, Gaelic A. A., first. _Final heat_--F. Westing, first. Time, 10s. Dead heat between Copeland and Schifferstein. Copeland won the run off in 10 2-5s.

One mile walk--E. D. Lange, M. A. C., first. Time, 6m. 53 4-5s.; C. L. Nicoll, M. A. C., second.

One mile run--T. P. Conneff, M. A. C., first. Time, 4m. 32 3-5s.; W. McCarthy, Gaelic A. A., second.

220-yards run--F. Westing, first. Time, 22 2-5s.; H. M. Banks, M. A. C., second.

Two mile bicycle race--J. W. Powers, Jr., M. A. C., first. Time, 6m. 55s.; J. H. Hanson, M. A. C., second.

Three mile walk--E. D. Lange, first. Time, 22m. 49 3-5s.; C. L. Nicoll, second.

120-yards hurdle race, _first heat_--A. F. Copeland first. Time, 17 2-5s.; Herbert Mapes, Columbia College A. C., second. _Second heat_--Walk-over for H. S. Younghand, M. Vandervoort, M. A. C. _Final heat_--A. F. Copeland, first. Time, 16 2-5s.; Herbert Mapes, second.

Half-mile run--J. W. Moffatt, Montreal A. A. A., first. Time, 2m. 2 1-5s.; J. C. Devereaux, Columbia College A. C. second.

440-yards run--T. J. O’Mahony, Gaelic A. A., first. Time, 53s.; T. J. Norton, M. A. C., second.

220-yards hurdle race--A. F. Copeland, first. Time, 20 3-5s.; Herbert Mapes, second.

Five mile run--T. P. Conneff, first. Time, 25m. 35s. S. J. Freeth, Prospect Harriers, second.

Tug-of-war--D. S. Lord, J. Jenning, D. T. Brokaw and W. Revere, M. A. C., against G. M. Elliott, F. M. R. Meikleham, E. C. Robinson and Eugene Clapp, Columbia College. Manhattans won by two inches.

Tug-of-war--M. A. C. team against M. Mulhern, J. J. Van Houten, J. Moran and C. Miltman, West Side A. C. Manhattans won by 7¾ in.

Pole vault--G. P. Quinn, University of Pennsylvania, first, 10 ft. 1 in.; J. J. Van Houten, West Side A. C., second, 9 ft. 10 in.

Putting the shot--F. L. Lambrecht, M. A. C., first, 42 ft. 4 in.; J. S. Mitchell, Gaelic A. A., second, 41 ft. 9 in.

Running high jump--T. M. O’Connor, Gaelic A. A., first, 5 ft. 9½ in.; M. W. Ford, Brooklyn, second, 5 ft. 8½ in.

Throwing 16-lb. hammer--F. L. Lambrecht, first, 105 ft. 1 in.; J. S. Mitchell, second, 102 ft. 3 in.

Running broad jump--V. E. Schifferstein, first, 23 ft. 1¾ in.; A. F. Copeland, second, 22 ft. ½ in.

Throwing 56-lb. weight--J. S. Mitchell, first, 26 ft. 10 in.; J. C. Daly, Gaelic A. A., second, 26 ft. 8 in.

* * * * *

~The~ annual fall games of the Princeton College Athletic Association were held at the University grounds, October 20. The Princeton record in the half-mile run was broken by Roddy, ’91, who covered the distance in 2m. 5 1-5s. Dohm, ’90, ran one hundred yards in 10 sec. The other events and winners were as follows:

Throwing the hammer--Brownlee, ’89, 81 ft. 9½ in.

Running high jump--Lemassena, ’90, 5 ft. 2 in.

Mile walk--Whitehead, ’91; time, 8m. 10 1-5s.

Putting the shot--Galt, ’91, 28 ft. 10 in.

Quarter-mile run--Somerby, ’92; time, 59s.

220-yards dash--Dohm, ’90; time, 23 1-5s.

Mile run--Phillips, ’90; time, 5m. 18s.

Two-mile bicycle race--Shick, ’92; time, 8m. 7 1-5s.

Running broad jump--Lemassena, ’90, 20 ft. 9½ in.

* * * * *

~The~ fall meeting of the Ridgefield Athletic Association took place on the afternoon of October 8. The results were as follows:

100-yards dash--J. F. McDonald, three yards lead, first; J. H. Shepard, six yards, second. Time, 10 3-5s.

Running broad jump--Ben. J. Worman, one foot allowance, first, 19 ft. 7 in.; F. R. Wells, second, 18 ft. 11 in.

440-yards run--J. F. McDonald, 10 yards lead, first; William Grotenhuis, second. Time, 57 1-5s.

Hop, step and jump--Ben. J. Worman, allowance of three feet, first, 41 ft. 10 in.; F. R. Wells, second, 41 ft. ½ in.

100-yards dash, juniors, heats--J. H. Bailey first, E. L. Miller second. Time, 11s.

220-yards dash--Wm. Grotenhuis, six yards lead, first; R. S. Calkins, Jr., second. Time, 23½s.

Running high jump--H. M. Wilcox, allowance of four inches, first, 4 ft. 11 in.; F. R. Wells, second, 4 ft. 9½ in.

Putting 16-pound shot--F. R. Wells, first, 33 ft. 5½ in.; M. Pennington, second, 29 ft. 4 in.

880 yards--W. Patterson first, F. R. Wells second. Time, 2m. 28 1-5s.

* * * * *

~The~ fall athletic sports of the University of Pennsylvania took place October 20, with the following results:

Open 100-yards dash--Won by Sweet, of Swarthmore, in 10 4-5s.

100-yards dash--Won by Landreth, ’91, in 10 4-5s.

Pole vault--Won by Quinn (law), with 9 ft. 5½ in.

Throwing the hammer--Won by Bonsall (med.), with 96 ft.

Half-mile run--Won by Chamberlain, ’89, in 2m. 20 3-5s.

440-yards dash--Won by Kulp (med.), in 56s.

Mile walk--Won by Schofield (law), in 8m. 39 1-2s.

Running high jump--Won by Howard, ’91, with 5 ft. ⅞ in.

Running broad jump--Won by Landreth, ’91, with 19 ft. 5 in.

120-yards hurdle race--Won by Stroud, ’88, in 19s.

Mile bicycle race--Won by Cressman, ’90, in 3m. 25 1-5s.

Putting the shot--won by Bonsall (med.), with 33 ft. 6 in.

220-yards hurdle race--Won by Stroud, ’88, in 34 1-5s.

Mile run--Won by West, ’91, in 5m. 3s.

220-yards dash--Won by Landreth, in 25s.

* * * * *

~The~ fall meeting of the Yale University Athletic Association was held October 20. There were 137 entries. The grounds were in excellent condition. Results were as follows:

120-yards dash--Won by H. F. Walker, Yale, ’89, 6½ yards start, in 12 1-5s.

Mile run--J. T. Lloyd, Yale, ’91, 50 yards handicap, won in 4m. 43 2-5s.

Mile walk--L. R. Parker, Yale, ’92, won in 8m. 19 1-5s.

600-yards run--Won by C. W. Porter, Amherst, ’90, 24 yards handicap, in 1m. 13s.

120-yards hurdle race--Won by H. L. Williams, Yale, ’91, 5 yards handicap, in 17 1-5s.

Two mile bicycle race--Won by F. A. Clark, Yale, ’91, Sheffield, handicap, 50 yards; time, 6m. 33 1-5s.

300-yards run--Won by H. F. Walker, Yale, ’89; time, 32 2-5s.

220-yards hurdle race--H. L. Williams, Yale, ’91, handicap 6 yards, won in 28 4-5s.

Three-quarter mile steeplechase--G. Y. Gilbert, N. Y. A. C., won in 4m. 38 4-5s.; C. A. Davenport, Harvard, ’90, and J. P. Lloyd, Yale, ’91, ran a dead heat for second place, which had to be run off, when the Harvard man won.

440-yards run--Won by E. B. Hinkley, Yale, ’89, in 52s.; F. W. Robinson, Yale, ’90, was a very close second.

Running high jump--A. Nickerson, N. Y. A. C., handicap 4 in., won in 5 ft. 11½ in.

Throwing the hammer--H. A. Elcove, Yale, ’91, with a handicap of 3 ft., won with 81 feet, 1 in.

Running broad jump--E. P. Hinckley, Yale, ’89, handicap 3 ft. 6 in., jumped 22 ft. 8 in. and won.

Putting the shot--F. W. Robinson, Yale, ’90, handicap 4 ft., won with 35 ft. 8 in.

Pole vault--E. D. Ryder, Yale, ’91, with a handicap of 1 ft. 10 in., won with 10 ft. 2 in.; T. G. Shearman, Yale, ’89 was second.

* * * * *

~Delegates~ from the Manhattan, Star, Titan, Crescent, Brighton and Allerton Athletic Clubs and the Missouri Athletic Association made up the meeting of the National Cross-Country Association in this city, October 23. The West Side Athletic Club was elected to membership. The officers elected for the ensuing year are: President, F. A. Ware, Crescent A. C.; vice-president, C. C. Hughes, Manhattan A. C.; secretary, C. J. Harvey, Star A. C.; treasurer, E. J. Ryan, Allerton A. C. Executive Committee--E. J. Ryan, Allerton, A. C.; D. J. Cox, Brighton, A. C.; C. S. Busse, Crescent A. C.; C. C. Hughes, Manhattan A. C.; J. A. Murphy, Missouri A. A. A.; C. J. Harvey, Star A. C.; J. L. McAuliffe, Titan A. C.; J. D. Douglass, West Side A. C.

* * * * *

~The~ first annual meeting of the National Amateur Athletic Union was held on the grounds of the Detroit Athletic Club, September 19. An attendance of five thousand witnessed the games, and the entire management was a success. The referee was John F. Huneker of the Athletic Club of the Schuylkill Navy. The judges were D. G. Trench, Chicago Athletic Club; W. G. Schuyler, New York Athletic Club; J. H. Booth and F. W. Janssen, Staten Island Athletic Club; P. E. Stanley and F. D. Standish, Detroit Athletic Club. As timekeepers, the following gentlemen officiated: Otto Ruhl and J. H. Abeel, Jr., New York Athletic Club; Fred. T. Moran, Detroit Athletic Club; W. H. Robertson, Pastime Club, and Hon. J. E. Reyburn, Cape May City Club. The measurers were J. E. Sullivan, Pastime Club; Howard Perry, Columbia Club; J. W, Carter, New York Club; Charles W. Lennon, Pullman Club, and W. H. Rogers, Schuylkill Navy. George Turner, of Philadelphia, was starter, and Sporting Editor, P. J. Donohue, of the New York _World_, was judge of walking. Harry McMillan, of the Schuylkill Navy, was chief-marshal of the day, and Fred. W. Burns, of the Brooklyn Athletic Club, official announcer. The following were the results in the various events:

100-yards run--F. Westing, Manhattan Athletic Club, first; C. H. Sherrill, Yale College, and Malcolm W. Ford, Staten Island Athletic Club, tied for second place, Ford getting the place on the toss. Time, first heat, 10 2-5s.; second heat, 10 3-5s.; third heat, 10 2-5s.; final heat, 10 2-5s.

120-yards hurdle--A. A. Jordan, New York Athletic Club, first; A. F. Copeland, Manhattan Athletic Club, second; E. M. Vandervoort, Manhattan Athletic Club, third. Time, 16 1-5s.; won in one heat.

One-mile walk--W. R. Burkhardt, Pastime Athletic Club, first; C. L. Nicoll, Manhattan Athletic Club, second. Time, 6m. 54 1-5s.

One-mile run--G. M. Gibbs, Toronto Athletic Club, first; T. P. Conneff, Manhattan Athletic Club, second; P. D. Skillman, New York Athletic Club. Time, 4m. 27 1-5s.

220-yards run--F. Westing, Manhattan Athletic Club, first; W. C. Dohm, New York Athletic Club, second; H. F. Walker, Detroit Athletic Club, third. Time, 22 1-5s.

220-yards hurdle race--Won in one heat--A. F. Copeland, Manhattan Athletic Club, first; A. A. Jordan, New York Athletic Club, second; G. Schwegler, Chicago Athletic Club, third. Time, 26 4-5s.

Three-mile walk--Won by E. D. Lange, of the Manhattan Athletic Club; Otto Hassell, Chicago Amateur Athletic Club, second.

Two-mile bicycle race--W. E. Crist, Columbia Athletic Club, first. Time, 6m. 49 1-5s.

440-yards run--W. C. Dohm, New York Athletic Club, first. Time, 51s.

880-yard run--G. Tracey, Wanderers’ Athletic Club, Chicago, first; C. M. Smith, New York Athletic Club, second; C. L. Estes, Manhattan Club, third. Time, 2m. 2 1-5s.

Five-mile run--T. P. Conneff, Manhattan Athletic Club, first; E. C. Carter, New York Athletic Club, second. Time, 26m. 46 3-5s.

Running high jump--J. D. Webster, Manhattan Athletic Club, first, 5 ft. 6½, in.; W. M. Norris, Staten Island Athletic Club, second, 5 ft. 4½ in.; R. K. Pritchard, Staten Island Athletic Club, third, 5 ft. 4½ in.

Tug-of-war--Manhattan Athletic Club Team--D. S. Lord, anchor; W. Revere, D. T. Brokaw, and J. Senning, against the “Busy Bees” Athletic Association of Co. B, 22d Regiment, N. G. S. N. Y. Won by the “Busy Bees,” in the first and third pulls.

Putting 16-lb. shot--G. R. Gray, New York Athletic Club, first, 42 ft. 10½ in.; F. L. Lambrecht, Manhattan Athletic Club, second, 40 ft. 6 in.; W. L. Coudon, New York Athletic Club, third, 40 ft. 4½ in.

Running long jump--W. Halpin, Olympic Athletic Club, first, 23 ft.; A. F. Copeland, Manhattan Athletic Club, second, 22 ft. 11⅝ in.; A. A. Jordan, New York Athletic Club, third, 22 ft. 9⅞ in.

Throwing 16-lb. hammer--W. J. M. Barry, Queen’s College, Cork, first, 127 ft. 1 in.; C. A. J. Queckberner, Staten Island Athletic Club, second, 106 ft. 11 in.; F. L. Lambrecht, Manhattan Athletic Club, third, 97 ft. 4 in.

Pole vault--L. D. Godshall, Manhattan Athletic Club, first, 10 ft.; C. Whitehorn, Staten Island Athletic Club, second, 9 ft. 9 in.; A. A. Jordan, New York Athletic Club, third, 9 ft.

Throwing 56-lb. weight--W. L. Coudon, New York Athletic Club, 27 ft. 9 in., beating the world’s record by 1 ft. 11 in.

* * * * *

~Columbia College~ students turned out in full force October 26, at the Manhattan Athletic Club grounds. The entries numbered over 225. Three Columbia records were broken and one intercollegiate record was equaled. H. Mapes, ’92 (mines), won the 220-yards hurdle in 26 4-5s., beating the Columbia record by two seconds and equaling the intercollegiate best time. He also beat the college record for the 120-yards hurdle in 17 1-5s. A. S. Vosburgh, ’90 (arts), beat the Columbia mile record by one second, making the distance in 4m. 53 2-5s. The winners and seconds are as follows:

100-yards dash--Final, Herbert Mapes, 3 yards, first; H. M. Banks, Jr., scratch, second. Time, 10 3-5s.

220-yards run--H. M. Banks, scratch, first; Herbert Shipman, 7 yards, second. Time, 23 2-5s.

440-yards run--J. C. Travis, 35 yards, first; Herbert Shipman, 18 yards, second. Time, 52s.

880-yards run--J. M. Hewlett, 40 yards, first; M. R. Strong, 10 yards, second. Time, 2m. 5s.

Mile run--A. S. Vosburgh, scratch, first; J. S. Langthorn, 25 yards, second. Time, 4m. 53 2-5s.

Mile walk--T. McIlvaine, scratch, first; H. G. Peck, second. Time, 8m. 8 4-5s.

Two-mile bicycle--W. H. Hall, 60 yards, first; G. A. Wardlaw, second. Time, 7m. 50 4-5s.

220-yards novice race--S. R. Bradley, first; J. R. Steers, second. Time, 25 4-5s.

880-yards novice race--F. E. Gunnison, first; J. A. Dempsey, second. Time, 2m. 27s.

120-yards hurdle--H. Mapes, ’92 (mines), first; T. H. Havemeyer, 12 yards, second. Time, 17 1-5s.

220-yard hurdle--H. Mapes, scratch, first; Victor Mapes, 15 yards, second. Time, 26 4-5s.

Putting 16-lb. shot--B. C. Hinman, actual distance 33 ft. 6 in., first; M. C. Bogert, actual distance 31 ft., second.

Running high jump--F. C. Hooper, actual height, 5 ft. 4 in., first; Alexander Stevens, 4 ft. 7 in., second.

Running broad jump--Victor Mapes, actual distance, 20 ft. 8 in., first; J. C. Devereaux, 19 ft. 8 in., second.

Throwing 16-lb. hammer--B. C. Hinman, actual throw, 79 ft., first; M. T. Bogert, 66 ft. 6 in., second.

Tug-of-war--’89 won from ’90 by 1 in.; ’92 won from ’91 by default; ’89 won from ’92 by default.

The winners in the open events were:

100-yards run, handicap--F. Westing, M. A. C. first; H. Shipman, 5 yards, second. Time, 10 2-3s.

Half-mile run--J. W. Moffatt, of Canada, scratch, first; D. I. Tompkins, Manhattan Athletic Club, 24 yards, second. Time, 2m. 2-5s.

C. H. Mapes was referee; G. L. M. Sachs, S. C. Herriman, and D. L. R. Dresser, judges; G. A. Avery, W. Hegeman, C. C. Hughes, timers, and H. Pike, starter.

BASEBALL.

~The~ following is the official record of the League Championship campaign, giving the victories and defeats of each club and the deciding percentage of victories, on the basis of which every club was placed in the race, from the pennant winner to the tail-ender:

A: New York. B: Chicago. C: Philadelphia. D: Boston. E: Detroit. F: Pittsburgh. G: Indianapolis. H: Washington. I: Games won. J: Per cent. of victories.

---------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---++----+---- ~Clubs~ | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H || I | J ---------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---++----+---- New York |-- | 8 |14 |12 |11 |10 |11 |15 || 84 |.641 Chicago |11 |-- | 8 |12 |10 | 9 |14 |13 || 77 |.570 Philadelphia | 5 |10 |-- |10 | 7 |14 |13 |10 || 69 |.531 Boston | 8 | 7 | 9 |-- |10 |10 |11 |15 || 70 |.522 Detroit | 7 |10 |11 | 8 |-- |10 |11 |11 || 68 |.519 Pittsburgh | 7 |11 | 6 | 8 |10 |-- |14 |10 || 66 |.493 Indianapolis | 5 | 6 | 4 | 9 | 8 | 6 |-- |12 || 50 |.370 Washington | 4 | 6 | 9 | 5 | 7 | 9 | 8 |-- || 48 |.358 ---------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---++----+---- Games lost |47 |58 |61 |64 |63 |68 |85 |86 ||532 | ---------------+---+---+---+---+---+---+---+---++----+----

Not only was the race close between New York and Chicago for first place up to October, but the struggle for the third position between Philadelphia, Boston, and Detroit, was interesting.

* * * * *

Here is a table giving the full statistics of the League campaign in all the most essential particulars.

A: New York. B: Chicago. C: Philadelphia. D: Boston. E: Detroit. F: Pittsburgh. G: Indianapolis. H: Washington.

-----------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+---- | A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H -----------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+---- Victories | 84| 77| 69| 70| 68| 66| 50| 48 Defeats | 47| 58| 61| 64| 63| 68| 85| 86 Games played | 131| 135| 130| 134| 131| 134| 135| 134 Per cent. of victories |.641|.570|.531|.522|.519|.493|.370|.358 Drawn games | 7| 1| 1| 3| 3| 4| 1| 2 Series won | 5| 4| 2| 2| 3| 2| 1| 0 Series lost | 1| 1| 1| 2| 1| 2| 6| 5 Series tied | 0| 1| 0| 0| 2| 1| 0| 0 Series unfinished | 1| 1| 4| 3| 1| 3| 3| 3 Batting average |.240|.247|.229|.240|.243|.223|.233|.207 Fielding average |.918|.906|.919|.904|.916|.914|.904|.899 Victories at home | 44| 43| 37| 34| 41| 38| 31| 26 Victories abroad | 40| 34| 32| 36| 27| 28| 19| 22 Defeats at home | 23| 26| 31| 29| 26| 30| 35| 38 Defeats abroad | 24| 32| 30| 34| 37| 39| 50| 48 Extra innings games | 6| 2| 9| 2| 4| 4| 1| 1 Chicago victories | 18| 11| 16| 7| 10| 13| 6| 6 Chicago defeats | 3| 9| 6| 13| 5| 19| 11| 21 -----------------------+----+----+----+----+----+----+----+----

The appended table presents the statistics, in brief, of the thirteen pennant races of the League, from 1876 to 1888, inclusive.

-----+------------+----------+--------+-----------+--------------- YEAR.| CHAMPION |VICTORIES.|DEFEATS.| Per cent. | CLUB | CLUB. | | | of | MANAGER. | | | | victories.| -----+------------+----------+--------+-----------+--------------- 1876 | Chicago | 52 | 14 | .788 | Spalding 1877 | Boston | 31 | 17 | .648 | Harry Wright 1878 | Boston | 41 | 19 | .683 | Harry Wright 1879 | Providence | 55 | 23 | .705 | George Wright 1880 | Chicago | 67 | 17 | .798 | Anson 1881 | Chicago | 56 | 28 | .667 | Anson 1882 | Chicago | 56 | 29 | .655 | Anson 1883 | Boston | 63 | 55 | .534 | Harry Wright 1884 | Providence | 84 | 28 | .750 | Frank Bancroft 1885 | Chicago | 87 | 25 | .776 | Anson 1886 | Chicago | 90 | 34 | .725 | Anson 1887 | Detroit | 79 | 45 | .637 | Watkins 1888 | New York | 84 | 47 | .641 | Mutrie -----+------------+----------+--------+-----------+---------------

CANOE.

~The~ second series in the canoe sailing races for the international challenge cup took place October 13 from Bechtel’s Rock, Stapleton, Staten Island, over the usual course, which is two miles long. The boats sailed over the course four times, making the distance of the race eight miles. Col. C. L. Norton, of the New York Canoe Club, acted as referee.

There was but one race in the forenoon, which was won by the _Eclipse_ of the Brooklyn Canoe Club, sailed by R. S. Blake, in 2h. 1m. 30s. The _Charm_, of the Royal Canoe Club, sailed by Walter Stewart, took the lead at first, but was overhauled and passed by the Yankee boat. The time of the _Charm_ was 2h. 8m. 30s.

The afternoon race was won by the _Eclipse_, in 2h. 9m. 45s. The _Charm_ was unable to round the offshore buoy according to the requirements, and the Brooklyn boat went over the course alone. The winning of the silver international cup by an American boat will necessitate the next international canoe race to be sailed also in American waters.

There were other races during the day for a prize flag. The first race of this contest had three entries, and the boats finished in the following order: _Fly_, time, 1h. 15m. 10s.; _Essex_, of the Essex Club, 2h. 7m.; and the _Guinn_, Brooklyn Club, 2h. 8m. The course was six miles.

The second race was decided in the following order: _Fly_, 1h. 34m. 45s.; _Guinn_, 1h. 36m. 30s.; _Vagabond_, 1h. 41m. 20s.; _If_, 1h. 45m. 45s.; _New York_, 1h. 48m.; _Essex_, 1h. 48m. 45s. _Will of the Wisp_ and _Nancy_ fell out of the race.

CRICKET.

~Cricket~ has closed for the year among the leading English teams. During the season the following scores were made in first-class matches: W. G. Grace, 215, 165, 153, and 148; W. W. Read, 338, 171, 109, and 103; W. Newham, 129 and 118; M. P. Bowden, 189, not out; J. Eccles, 184; Abel, 160; Painter, 150; P. J. T. Henery, 138, not out; Jesse Hide, 130; Hall, 129, not out; Briggs, 126, not out; S. W. Scott, 121, not out; Maurice Read, 109; K. J. Key, 108; Wainright, 105; Frank Sugg, 102, not out. The 153 and 148 of W. G. Grace were made in one match.

* * * * *

~The~ Irish Gentlemen cricketers, who have been visiting the principal cricket clubs in this country and Canada, sailed for home October 3, on the _City of Rome_. The Irishmen speak in warm terms of the way in which they were treated by their brother sportsmen here. They have reason to be proud of their performance. During six weeks they have played thirteen matches, of which they have won eleven and lost two. Both games were lost in Philadelphia, one by seven runs, the other by thirty-nine. In Canada the Home Rulers defeated Kingston’s and Ottawa’s best players by large scores, and in a match against all Canada they had eighty-six runs, and an innings to spare. In the United States they defeated all the best elevens, except those in Philadelphia. New York’s best team came within nine wickets of the Irishmen in a two-innings match. The highest score made by any member of the visiting team was 126, made by J. Dunn, in the New York match.

CURLING.

~The~ annual meeting of the Ontario Branch of the Royal Caledonia Curling Club was held in Montreal, October 16. The following is a list of the officers elected: His Excellency the Governor-General, Patron; Robert Ferguson, president; vice-presidents, John Harvey and Dr. Bouchier; chaplain, Rev. D. J. Macdonnell; secretary-treasurer, J. S. Russell; council of management, W. Badenach, Toronto Granite Club; W. Rennie, Toronto Caledonian Club; Dr. Beaton, Orillia Club; T. McGaw, Toronto Club; W. Leggatt, Hamilton Thistle Club, and Dr. Berth, Bowmanville Club.

CYCLING.

~S. G. Whittaker~ continues to make new records abroad. September 22, at the Long Eaton Recreation Grounds, England, he made the attempt to beat the record for twenty-five miles, and succeeded in creating new figures for every mile from two to the finish. Time for the full distance, 1h. 11m. 5⅔s.

* * * * *

~G. R. White~, in England, at the annual North Road Cycling Club’s 100-mile road ride, September 22, over the usual course, on an “Ordinary,” rode the entire distance without dismounting, in 6h. 48m. 14s. The previous record was 7h. 6m. 18s., and was made by F. H. Williams.

* * * * *

~The~ Y. M. C. A., of Worcester, Mass., had games October 20, and in the one-mile bicycle race D. W. Rolston made the mile in 3m. 18 1-5s., James Wilson, Jr., coming in second, in 3m. 18 3-5s.

* * * * *

~The~ Pennsylvania five-mile handicap race was run October 20. The contest resulted as follows: J. H. Draper, half-lap handicap, first, in 22m. 25s.; D. A. Longaker, one lap, second; J. G. Fuller, scratch, third; C. L. Leisen, one lap, fourth; Al. Kohler, one lap, fifth; John A. Wells, one lap, sixth; L. J. McCloskey and W. W. Randall, each with two laps, finishing seventh and eighth. The track was soft and the wind strong.

* * * * *

~A. C. and W. D. Banker~, of Pittsburgh, Pa., rode a mile, tandem, Sunday, October 21, in 2m. 41 4-5s. The course was rough, and a strong wind prevailed against the riders.

* * * * *

~The~ Danvers, Mass., Cycle Club races were run October 20 on a heavy track. The results: Mile novice--J. Ogden, of Middletown, 3m. 4s. Half-mile, club challenge, two in three--M. W. Robson, of Salem. Mile tandem tricycle--R. H. Robson and mate, of Salem, 4m. 50s. Mile handicap--E. A. Bailey, of Somerville (scratch), 3m. 37s. Mile tricycle--R. H. Robson, of Salem, 5m. 15s. Two mile--E. A. Bailey, 8m. 15s. Mile county championship--H. Robson, of Salem, 4m. 14s. Referee, W. S. Atwell, of Boston.

* * * * *

~The~ five-mile Peninsula championship, decided at the Wilmington (Del.) Fair, was won by McDaniel; Pyle second; Jefferies third.

* * * * *

~I. P. Hail~, of Albany, Oregon, recently made a four hundred mile trip through Southern Oregon to Coos Bay and return. He crossed the Coast Range Mountains twice, and traveled one hundred and fifty miles over a rough mountain trail, over which no bicycle had ever passed.

* * * * *

~John M. Cook~ has presented an eight-in-hand cycle to a college for the blind, at Upper Norwood, England. The eight-in-hand is arranged for the girls of the institution to ride. Two four-in-hands and a tandem will enable the boys to take exercise and recreation.

* * * * *

~The~ tournament of the Pittsburgh Cycling and Athletic Club was held at Pittsburgh, September 24, 25 and 26. It was a show in which professionals and amateurs took part. “The tournament,” says the _Wheelmen’s Gazette_, “was a success from a sporting standpoint,” whatever that may mean, “but there was little or no financial benefit.” The following is a summary of the races:

_Monday, September 24._

One-half-mile bicycle scratch--W. W. Windle, first; time, 1m. 23s. One-mile novice--W. D. George, first; time, 3m. 20s. Five-mile professional championship--First heat of championship series--W. A. Rowe, first; time 15m. 22 1-5s. One-half-mile bicycle, 1:35 class--W. D. George, first; time, 1m. 35 1-5s. Two-mile professional lap race--H. G. Crocker, first, 31 points; time, 6m. 42s. Two-mile Pennsylvania Division State championship--A. C. Banker, first; time, 6m. 3 1-5s. One-mile bicycle, 3:30 class--W. D. George, first; time, 3m. 21 2-5s. One-mile professional handicap--W. F. Knapp, 30 yards, first; time, 2m. 52 3-5s. Two-mile bicycle scratch--W. W. Windle, first; time, 6m. 15s.

_Tuesday, September 25._

One-mile bicycle lap race--W. W. Windle, first, 14 points; time, 2m. 55s. One-half-mile bicycle novice--W. D. George, first; time, 1m. 38s. Three-mile bicycle professional, second heat of world’s championship--W. A. Rowe, first; time, 8m. 57s. One-mile bicycle, 3:10 class--W. D. George, first; time, 3m. 19 1-5s. One-mile professional handicap--R. A. Neilson, 50 yards, first. One-mile bicycle scratch--W. W. Windle, first; time 3m. 2-5s. Two-mile bicycle professional--W. F. Knapp, first; time, 6m. 14s. Three-mile bicycle amateur handicap--W. W. Windle, scratch, first. Time, 8m. 59s.

_Wednesday, September 26._

One-mile bicycle amateur handicap--W. W. Windle, scratch, first; time, 2m. 58½s. One-mile professional bicycle scratch--R. A. Neilson, first; time, 3m. 12s. Two-mile bicycle amateur, 6:20 class--W. D. George, first; time, 7m. 2s. Two-mile bicycle amateur lap race--W. W. Windle, first; time, 6m. 20s. One-mile professional bicycle, final heat world’s championship--W. A. Rowe, first; time, 3m. One-mile bicycle amateur scratch--W. W. Windle, first; time, 2m. 55 3-5s. One-mile bicycle, 3:20 class--W. D. George, first; time, 3m. 23s. Two-mile bicycle handicap, professional--H. G. Crocker, 20 yards, first; time, 6m. 11s. Five-mile bicycle L. A.W. State championship--W. D. Banker, first; time, 16m. 28s.

* * * * *

~The~ Indianapolis Wheelmen held their first annual race meet at the Exposition Grounds, September 29. The track was bad, the weather was wretched, and time poor. The results were as follows: The one-mile novice race was won by W. C. Marmon, in 3m. 20 4-5s.; the five mile State championship by L. M. Hollingsworth, in 17m. 6 4-5s.; the one-half mile heat by A. B. Taylor, in 1m. 31s.; the one mile club championship by Tom Hay, in 3m. 59 4-5s.; the two-mile lap by L. M. Hollingsworth, in 7m. 7s.; the quarter-mile heat by A. B. Taylor, in 42s.; the one-mile, 3:30 class, by Chas. McKeen, in 3m. 42s.; the one-half mile heat by L. M. Barber, in 1m. 34s.; the one-mile rover safety by A. L. Tabor, in 3m. 56s.; the quarter-mile heat by A. B. Taylor, in 43 2-5s.; the one-mile open by A. J. Lee, in 3m. 51¼s.; the one-half mile, 1:30 class, by Josh Zimmerman, in 1m. 39 2-5s.; the two-mile handicap by L. M. Hollingsworth, in 6m. 42 3-5s.

* * * * *

~The~ bicycle races at Wilmington, Del., October 18 and 19, resulted as follows: Mile open--S. W. Merrihew, W. W. C., 4m. 7¾.; E. J. Halstead, Y. M. C. A., second. Mile, 3m. class--Merrihew, 4m. 54½s.; Ludwig, Honeybrook, Pa., second. Three-mile lap race--W. I. Wilhelm, won, 19 points, 13m. 28s.; Merrihew, second, with 14 points. Half-mile open--Wilhelm, 1m. 45½s.; Halstead, second. Two-mile 6.20 class--Merrihew won in 8m. 4½s., but was protested as being out of his class. The race will go to McDaniels--Mile novice--C. R. Guiding, Reading, Pa., 4m. 26¾s.; J. D. Kurtz, Jr., second. Half-mile, state championship--B. F. McDaniels, Wilmington, 1m. 34½s. Victor Pyle, 2d. Five mile state championship--McDaniels won, 19m. 51s.; Victor Pyle, 2d. Mile, 3:30 class--McDaniels won, 3m. 37s., J. D. Kurtz, 2d.

* * * * *

~The~ races at Quincy, Ill., October 11, resulted: Half-mile--Percy Stone, St. Louis, first; Lumsden, Chicago, second: Colie Bell, third; 1m. 48¾s. Quarter-mile, hands off--J. Harry Gordon, St. Louis, 1m. 38s.; Frank Peters, Newton, Kas., second. Mile, open--R. A. Neilson, Boston, won, 3m. 10s.; Munger, Chicago, second; Knapp, Denver, third; Crocker, Boston, fourth. The grand-stand fell in during the races, injuring many people.

* * * * *

~Our~ cycling friends will read the following with pleasure, as it shows that there is a probability of the improvement of the Madison Avenue pavement being accomplished shortly:

~Office of the Board of Aldermen~, } ~No. 8 City Hall, New York~. } October 24, 1888. }

_To the Editor of_ ~Outing~.

Dear Sir: I have the pleasure of informing you that at the Board meeting yesterday your resolution for a noiseless pavement on Madison Avenue, between 32d Street and 59th Street, was passed.

Yours very truly,

~Geo. H. Forster~.

~Department of Public Works~, } ~Commissioner’s Office~, } ~No. 31 Chambers St., New York~. } October 24, 1888. }

_To the Editor of_ ~Outing~.

Sir: In answer to your letter of the 6th inst., urging the desirability of continuing the asphalt pavement on Madison Avenue, from 32d Street to 59th Street, I beg to say that this work was included in the Department Estimate for “Repairing Streets and Avenues” for 1889, and that the work will be done by this Department next year if the Departmental Estimate is approved by the Board of Estimate and Apportionment.

Very respectfully,

~D. Lowber Smith~,

_Deputy and Acting Commissioner of Public Works_.

FOOTBALL.

~An~ Interscholastic Football Association has been formed in Boston, in which the following schools are represented: Roxbury Latin, Boston Latin, Chauncy Hall, Cambridge High and Latin combined, Mr. Hopkinson’s, Mr. Hale’s and Mr. Nichols’ and Mr. Stone’s combined, and Mr. Noble’s. The officers are as follows: President, R. B. Beals, Roxbury Latin School; vice-president, E. B. Randall, Mr. Noble’s school; secretary, F. W. Lord, Mr. Hale’s school; treasurer, F. Loring, Mr. Nichols’ school. The series of games consists of one game with each school, to be played on grounds mutually agreed on, for a cup to be called the Boston School Football Challenge Cup.

* * * * *

~The~ first game of football in the United States was played in New Haven, in 1840, between the classes of ’42 and ’43 of Yale College.

* * * * *

~The~ Intercollegiate Football Association held its annual meeting in New York, October 13. The colleges represented were: Yale--Camp, Corbin and King; Harvard--Brooks, Palmer and Sears; University of Pennsylvania--Hill and Hulme; Wesleyan--Coffin and Manchester; Princeton--Barr and Cowan. The interpretation of the rules as regards blocking was left as suggested by the Graduate Advisory Committee.

* * * * *

~The~ New England Intercollegiate Football Association held its annual meeting in Springfield, Mass., September 28. Trinity withdrew from the Association and Williams was admitted. The colleges represented this year are: Amherst, Dartmouth, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Stevens’ Institute of Technology, and Williams.

* * * * *

~The~ Graduate Advisory Committee of the Intercollegiate Football Association met at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, October 6, to select umpires for the several association championship matches. The delegates present were: J. A. Hodge, of Princeton; Mr. Brooks, of Harvard; W. C. Camp, of Yale; J. C. Bell, of the University of Pennsylvania, and Mr. Beattys, of Wesleyan. It was decided to ask the following gentlemen to act: Yale vs. Harvard--R. Hodge, Princeton; Yale vs. Princeton--F. Fisk, Harvard, F. R. Remington, alternate; Yale vs. Pennsylvania--R. Hodge, Princeton; Yale vs. Wesleyan--F. Fisk, Harvard; Harvard vs. Princeton--E. Richards, Yale, A. Baker, alternate; Harvard vs. Pennsylvania--L. Price, Princeton, H. Beecher, Yale, alternate; Harvard vs. Wesleyan--J. A. Saxe; Princeton vs. Pennsylvania--H. Morris, Harvard College; Princeton vs. Wesleyan--W. A. Brooks, Harvard; Wesleyan vs. Pennsylvania--R. Hodge, Princeton, W. A. Brooks, alternate.

After the delegates had reached an agreement about the umpires they proceeded to give interpretations to Rules 10, 24 and 25, which read as follows:

Rule 10--Interference is using the hands or arms in any way to obstruct or hold a player who has not the ball, not the runner.

Rule 24 (a)--A player is put off side if, during a scrimmage, he gets in front of the ball, or if the ball has been last touched by his own side behind him. It is impossible for a player to be off side in his own goal. No player when off side shall touch the ball, or interrupt or obstruct opponent with his hands or arms until again on side.

Rule 25--No player shall lay his hands upon or interfere by use of hands or arms, with an opponent, unless he has the ball.

The Princeton delegate wished to have these rules so changed that a rusher should be allowed to block with his arms and also to use his open hands in pushing his opponent. The committee came to the conclusion that such a radical change should be left to the meeting of undergraduates and therefore decided merely to put the following interpretations on the rules:

(_a._) The side which has the ball can only interfere (or block) with the body, and no use of the hands or arms will be permitted in any shape.

(_b._) The side which has not the ball can use the hands and arms as heretofore, so long as they do not get “off side.”

The great idea in these rules is to do away with the disagreeable “slugging” feature that has characterized intercollegiate football matches for the past five or six years.

* * * * *

~The~ Harvard team defeated the Technology team at football, October 13, by a score of 18 to 0. There was a large crowd of spectators despite the drizzling rain. Some of Harvard’s best men were not on the team, but they won nevertheless.

* * * * *

~The~ opening game of the American Football Union took place on the grounds of the Staten Island Cricket Club, at Livingston, October 13. The teams of the Orange Athletic Club and the Staten Island Cricket Club took part in it. The game was a hot one, and ended by the Orange team winning. The score was 4 to 0. Mr. Larkin was referee.

* * * * *

~The~ Princeton team beat Stevens’ Institute at football, on the grounds at Princeton, N. J., October 13, by a score of 80 to 0. The Institute team lacked training, but some good individual work was displayed.

* * * * *

~Harvard’s~ Football team won the contest with the Worcester Technology Eleven on Jarvis Field, Cambridge, October 27. The score was 68 to 0.

KENNEL.

~The~ National Dog Club held a meeting in this city, October 15. Twenty new members were admitted. Among other business transacted, writes Secretary H. W. Huntingdon, it was decided--

“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 interests 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.”

* * * * *

~The~ New England Kennel Club will hold its next annual show in Boston, April 2, 3, 4 and 5, 1889.

* * * * *

~The~ chances of a bench show in Pittsburgh this winter are slight. The last venture in that direction was not a success.

* * * * *

~The~ Richmond Dog Show was a very creditable exhibition. The enterprise, however, was not successful financially.

* * * * *

~The~ Erminie Kennels, Mount Vernon, N. Y., have purchased from Mr. Jarvis, Scarborough, Eng., the well-known rough-coated St. Bernard, Lysander; also the imported smooth-coated St. Bernard dog, Barry out of Bella, own sister to the celebrated Guide.

* * * * *

~A special~ meeting of the American Pet Dog Club was held October 15. The following members were present: Mrs. Charles Wheatleigh, Mrs. M. E. Randolph, Mrs. John Draper, Mrs. Frank Leslie, Miss Marion Bannister, Dr. M. H. Cryer, Mr. W. J. Fryer, Jr., Mrs. Henry B. Cowles, Mrs. Landreau. By a resolution of the club, Mr. C. Ormsby was expelled from membership and the office of secretary which he held was declared vacant.

* * * * *

~The~ third annual meeting of the American Coursing Club was held at Great Bend, Ind., October 15, 16, 17, 18, 19 and 20. It proved a great success. The winner of the Great Bend Derby was Master Hare, a perfect specimen of his breed. Thorn, the winner of the Silver Cup, is a well-known greyhound in the neighborhood of Great Bend. The annual meeting of the club was held on the evening of October 19. President David Taylor of Emporia, Vice-President D. W. Heizer of Great Bend, Secretary F. K. Doan of St. Louis, Treasurer V. Prinkman of Great Bend, were re-elected for the ensuing year. Mr. D. V. Heizer, Mr. H. C. Lowe and Mr. W. W. Carney were elected as the executive committee.

* * * * *

~At~ the last meeting of the American Kennel Club, the following changes in the contemplated new Constitution and Rules were offered by Mr. Hitchcock:

Amendment to Article V., Section 1, of the Constitution, by adding “and no delegate shall represent more than one club.”

The following are the amendments to the Rules:

Now Rule III. by changing in Section No. 3, the words “Kennel Club Show” to “show recognized by the American Kennel Club.”

Proposed Rule XVI.: “unit of weight” should read “limit of weight.”

Add to proposed Rule XVII. to list of classes “Kennel Classes”; and add to Rule VIII.: “The Kennel Class shall be for kennels of dogs of the same breed to compete as a kennel. The number of dogs to comprise a kennel must be fixed by the Show Committee.”

Proposed Rule XVII., Section 6, by changing the word “four” on second line to “five.”

Proposed Rule XVII., by adding to Section 5, “and for dogs for which no challenge class has been provided.”

Last section of proposed Rule XVII. so as to read: “All dogs qualified to compete in a Champion Class previous to January 1, 1889, shall compete in the Challenge Class. The winnings referred to in these rules apply only to shows recognized by the American Kennel Club, a list of which, together with these Rules, must be published in the Premium List and Catalogue of each Show.”

~Herman F. Schellhass~,

_Sec’y pro tem. A. K. C._

LACROSSE.

~A Lacrosse~ match for the Eastern Championship and the Oelrichs’ Cup was played October 13, at Staten Island. The contestants were the teams of the Staten Island Athletic Club and the Brooklyn Lacrosse Club. The latter won after a desperate struggle by a score of 4 goals to 3. Canadian lacrosse men present stated that it was the finest exhibition of lacrosse they had ever witnessed.

* * * * *

~A match~ game between the teams of the Montreal Club from Canada and the Cambridges was held on the Union Grounds, Boston Mass., October 6. Heavy rains interfered somewhat with the games. The Montreal team won by a score of 6 to 0.

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~The~ Victoria team defeated the Orients, both of Montreal, during the week ending October 6, by a score of 3 to 0.

* * * * *

~The~ Crescents also the same week, in the same city, beat the team of the St. Lawrence Club after the same fashion.

* * * * *

~The~ Hawthornes and the Jerseys, two other Canadian clubs, also during the same week had a match game, in which the Hawthornes were the victors by a score of 3 to 1.

* * * * *

~The~ Waltham and the Cambridge Lacrosse Teams met on the grounds of the Cambridge Club, October 13, to contest for the Boston _Herald_ Cup and the New England Championship. The Waltham team won by a score of 2 to 0. The following was the organization of the contestants:

Flohr Goal Phalen Young Point Clacy Cook Cover point Ritchie Clements { Defense } Watson C. Brown { field } Wyman Menard { } Phillips Smith Centre Gilmore Stanley { } Crocker Barton { Attack } Rourke A. Brown { field } Clancy Ballard First home Wells Eyrick Second home Crocker

LAWN TENNIS.

~Mr. C. A. Chase~, the Champion of the Western States, goes into winter quarters with quite a brilliant record for the season. He began this year by winning the Western Championship, following this up by capturing the honors at the Wright & Ditson tournament. He also won again the following week at the invitation tourney at Nahant, and added to his victories the last of September the Middle States Championship at Rochester.

~The~ fifth annual tournament of the Intercollegiate Lawn Tennis Association was held on the grounds of the New Haven Lawn Tennis Club, October 8, 9 and 10. Eight colleges were represented and the play resulted as follows:

Singles, Preliminary Round--Vernon, Princeton, beat Woodruff, Amherst, 6-3, 7-5; Ludington, Yale, beat Mapes, Columbia, 5-2, 6-0; Campbell, Columbia, beat Wheden, Brown, 8-6, 7-5; Hurd, Yale, beat Banks, Williams, 6-1, 6-2; Sears, Harvard, beat Johnston, Princeton, 6-1, 6-2; Wright, Trinity, h beat Deane, Amherst, 7-5, 6-4; Hall, Columbia, beat Brown, Harvard, 6-2, 6-2. First round--Hall beat Ludington, 6-3, 6-3; Hovey, Brown, beat Vernon, 6-3, 6-3; Campbell beat Hurd, 6-3, 3-6, 6-3; Sears beat Wright, 6-2, 6-2. Second round--Hall beat Hovey, 6-3, 6-2; Sears beat Campbell, 6-3, 5-7, 8-6, 6-4. Final game--Sears beat Hall, 7-5, 4-6, 6-2, 4-6, 6-2. Game for second prize--Campbell beat Wright, 6-3, 6-3.

Doubles, Preliminary Round--Hurd and Huntington, Yale, beat Wheden and Hovey, Brown, 3-6, 6-1, 6-3; Chase and Tailer, Harvard, beat Woodruff and Deane, Amherst, 6-0, 6-1; Campbell and Hall, Columbia, beat Banks and Meigs, Williams, 6-1, 6-3. First round--Chase and Tailer beat Woodruff and Deane, 6-0, 6-1; Campbell and Hall beat Ludington and Beach, Yale, 8-6, 6-3; Sears and Shaw, Harvard, beat Hurd and Huntington, 6-3, 6-4; Vernon and Johnson, Princeton, beat Wright and Scott, Trinity, 6-4, 6-4. Second round--Campbell and Hall beat Chase and Tailer, 6-4, 6-4; Sears and Shaw beat Vernon and Johnson, 6-1, 6-2. Final game--Campbell and Hall beat Shaw and Sears, 7-5, 6-2, 6-3. Games for second place--Ludington and Beach beat Chase and Tailer, 6-1, 2-6, 6-2. Final game--Sears and Shaw beat Ludington and Beach, 5-3, 8-6.

The officers of the Association for the ensuing year are: G. A. Hurd, Yale, ’90, president; Q. A. Shaw, Harvard, ’91, vice-president; and O. S. Campbell, Columbia, ’91, secretary. The next tournament will be held as usual on the New Haven grounds.

* * * * *

~The~ Boston _Herald_ of October 14, says, regarding the champions of the world and the premier lawn tennis players of both sexes in two continents:

The comparative playing-form of both sexes in England has been tested on two or three occasions during the past season. At Exmouth, says London _Pastime_, the champion gave the lady champion 30 and defeated her by 2 sets to 1, after a very hard match. At Manchester, Miss L. Dodd won by 2 sets to love against W. Renshaw at the same odds, and at half 30 she beat W. Grove, setless. How far Miss L. Dodd is above the acknowledged next best player, Mrs. Hillyard, was proved at Exmouth, when she gave the ex-lady champion half 30 for a bisque and defeated her. This performance vies with E. Renshaw’s victory over G. W. Hillyard at Torquay, when owing him half 40, for the glory of being the most remarkable match of the year. The champions for 1888-9 are as follows:

England--Champion, E. Renshaw; lady champion, Miss L. Dodd; doubles champions, E. Renshaw, W. Renshaw; ladies’ doubles champions, Miss L. Dodd, Miss May Langrishe.

Ireland--Champion, E. Renshaw; lady champion, Mrs. Hillyard; doubles champions, W. J. Hamilton, T. S. Campion; ladies’ doubles champions, Miss M. Steedman, Miss B. Steedman.

Scotland--Champion, P. B. Lyon; lady champion, Miss Butler; doubles champions, H. B. Lyon and P. B. Lyon.

Wales--Champion, W. J. Hamilton; lady champion, Mrs. Hillyard.

Covered Court--Champion, E. W. Lewis.

United States--Champion, H. Slocum, Jr.; doubles champions, V. G. Hall and O. S. Campbell.

The United States National Lawn Tennis Association has not yet recognized a lady championship, and if any such championship is claimed it is open to question.

* * * * *

~The~ lawn tennis season in England has ended, and from the results of play for the year an interesting review has been completed by the London _Pastime_. This shows that hardly a tournament, after the end of May, was free from the serious inconveniences caused by heavy falls of rain. Among the principal features of the season was the defeat of W. Renshaw by W. J. Hamilton, in the championship tournament at Wimbledon, and the success of his twin brother, Ernest Renshaw, at the same meeting. The champion, E. Renshaw, has not once been defeated on level terms, and his record against the first-class players is an excellent one. Against the second-class players his average is not as good as those of the other men in his class. He lost two sets out of eight played, while Lewis lost only that number out of twelve, and Hamilton three out of seventeen. The two sets lost by Renshaw were in his match with Wilberforce, at Wimbledon, on the day that W. Renshaw was defeated by Hamilton, when the ground was in a very soft condition. Neither Renshaw or Lewis lost a set to a third-class man. The classification of the leading English lawn-tennis players for the season of 1888, based on actual public performances, in matches on level terms, is as follows:

First class--E. Renshaw, W. J. Hamilton, E. W. Lewis.

Second class--W. Renshaw, E. G. Meers, H. F. Lawford, H. Chipp, P. B. Lyon, A. G. Ziffo, H. Grove, H. S. Barlow, E. de S. Browne, H. W. Wilberforce, J. Pine, J. Baldwin, C. G. Eames, H. S. Scrivner, T. S. Campion, F. A. Bowlby.

Third class--H. S. Stone, F. L. Rawson, W. D. Hamilton, W. C. Taylor, C. L. Sweet, M. S. Constable, W. C. Hillyard, C. H. Ross, J. R. Deykin, F. S. Noon, P. B. Brown, A. Thompson, A. de C. Wilson, G. R. Newburn, W. Baddeley, F. O. Stoker, H. S. Mahoney.

The placing of W. Renshaw, ex-champion, in the second class is due to the rule that no player beaten by a player in the second class, without having defeated one in the first class, shall be placed in the first.

* * * * *

~The~ development of tennis in the Southern States, both as to the number of clubs and players and the improvement shown in play, is wonderful; and, although the first open tournament at Washington, in September, resulted in the honors being brought to Boston by Messrs. Mansfield and Hoppin, the Northern players who were in attendance during the week of the tournament all look forward to seeing two, if not three, strong players from the South in the national championship of next year. Mr. Post, of Baltimore, is perhaps the most promising among the younger set. He is only seventeen years of age, yet taking the odds of half-fifteen from Tom Pettitt, he made a very creditable showing, winning the first set. Charles L. McCawley, of the Marine barracks, is another rising player, and with his partner, Mr. Post, they made a strong fight in the final doubles against Hoppin and Mansfield. The above championship was played on dirt courts, and the Country Club contemplates covering the courts in. Thus the Southern players will be able to keep in practice all the year round. With the many advantages for play afforded the players in the South, they will before long make dangerous rivals for our Northern cracks. Already there are more than 100 lawn tennis clubs and many new ones are springing up every day.

* * * * *

~The~ Hunnewell Tennis Court, near Dartmouth Street, Boston, has been reopened pending the completion of the courts in the new building of the Boston Athletic Association on the Back Bay. Tom Pettitt is again in charge, and Messrs. Hunnewell, Warren, Metcalf, Dr. Haven, and other lovers of the game, are in regular practice.

POLO.

~The~ New England Association of Polo Clubs, at Hartford, October 22, elected the following officers: President, T. H. McDonald, New Haven; vice-president, F. C. Bancroft, Springfield; secretary and treasurer, F. E. Sands, Meriden; directors, H. W. Putnam, Salem; H. P. Merrill, Springfield; C. F. Clark, Boston; Chas. Soby, Hartford. Messrs. Clark and Putnam urged a consolidation of the Connecticut and Massachusetts divisions, by taking in Boston and Worcester, the Salem team to remove to Worcester, but the Connecticut representatives would not consent, and Messrs. Clark and Putnam announced an intention of forming a league of six clubs.

The Connecticut division elected the following officers: President, E. J. Smith, Hartford; vice-president, W. N. Harris, Bridgeport; secretary, T. H. McDonald, New Haven; treasurer, F. E. Sands, Meriden; directors, F. C. Bancroft, Springfield, and Chas. Soby, Hartford. Mr. Bancroft’s location at Springfield was approved. Secretary McDonald was authorized to receive applications for appointment as referees.

ROWING.

~The~ record on the Paramatta Championship course in Australia was broken recently in a race between Henry E. Searle and James Stadsbury. Stadsbury is not yet out of his teens. Searle covered the first mile in 5m. 35s., and the 3 miles 300 yards in 19m. 53s. The men rowed with the tide. The best previous record made over the course, 20m. 29s., was made by Beach in his race with Hanlan in August, 1884. Searle has been matched to row Kemp at Sydney, N. S. W., on the 27th inst.

* * * * *

~Goepfert~ of the Metropolitan Rowing Association of this city, who was charged by James Pilkington, his partner in the double-scull race at the National Regatta, July 19, at Sunbury, Pa., with selling out the race, was found guilty by the executive committee of the National Association of Amateur Oarsmen, at a meeting held October 13, and expelled from the amateur ranks. When Goepfert’s conduct was first reported, ~Outing~ took occasion to point out the bad results sure to follow unless the most rigid measures were adopted to get at the truth of the charges made against him, and if they were found true the severest punishment should be meted out to him. The executive committee has done the amateur athletes a good service.

* * * * *

~The~ Harlem Regatta Association held its Fall regatta October 13. The Association is now in its twenty-first year. The course was one mile straightaway. Weather threatening; slight shower; wind light; water smooth. The following is the summary of the contests:

Four-oared gigs, with coxswains--Nautilus B. C., Bay Ridge, L. I., F. Oleson (bow), D. Voorhees, C. Sutton, M. Donally (stroke), J. Schellenburg (coxswain), won in 5m. 51s.; Atalanta B. C., M. Lau (bow), W. Lau, J. Miller, G. K. Storm (stroke), E. J. Byrne (coxswain), second in 6m. 2-5s.; Nonpareil B. C., J. Plummer (bow), F. Zellecke, J. Canavan, I. Maas (stroke), H. W. Nelson (coxswain), third.

Senior single-scull shells--O. J. Stephens, Union R. C., was the winner in 6m. 50s.; J. Pilkington, M. B. C., 7m. 3s.; W. Goodbody, Metropolitan R. C., third.

Junior four-oared shells--Metropolitan R. C., G. C. Johnston (bow), J. T. Hettrick, J. E. Nagle, J. A. Heraty (stroke), came in winner in 5m. 41s.; Nonpareil R. C., C. Schilling (bow), J. Meehan, T. Wade, F. Zellecke (stroke), 5m. 50s.; New York Athletic Club, E. Valentine (bow), S. G. Carr, R. Fisher, J. E. Lambden (stroke), third. Nonpareil was impeded by N. Y. A. C.

Pair-oared shells--New York Rowing Club, C. L. Andrews (bow), J. C. Livingston (stroke), were the victors, 6m. 23s.; Union R. C., G. J. Eltz (bow), M. B. Kaesche (stroke), second; Nonpareil R. C., G. A. Delancy (bow), J. J. Delaney (stroke), quit at half way.

Junior single-scull shells--E. R. de Wolfe, A. B. C., came in first, 6m. 16s.; O. D. Thees, Nassau B. C., second; A. J. Davenport, A. B. C., third.

Pair-oared gigs, with coxswains--Atalanta B. C., M. Lau (bow), W. Lau (stroke), E. J. Byrne (coxswain), won in 6m. 13s.; Columbia B. C., Glen Echo, N. J., J. A. Dempsey (bow), G. C. Dempsey (stroke), N. Southard (coxswain), 6m. 19s.; New York Athletic Club, G. D. Phillips (bow), J. W. Burr (stroke), E. Freeman (coxswain), 6m. 23 2-5s.; Nonpareil B. C., G. Bates (bow), P. H. Morgan (stroke), H. W. Nelson (coxswain), 6m. 25 2-5s.

Double-scull shells--Ravenswood (L. I. City) B. C., A. J. Buschmann (bow), J. Flatt, Jr. (stroke), reached the goal in 5m. 11s.; Union B. C., O. J. Stephens (bow), E. T. Haubold (stroke), 5m. 33s.; Nonpareil B. C., G. A. Delancy (bow), H. Zwinger (stroke), 5m. 37s.; Varuna B. C., Brooklyn, L. I., G. E. Laing (bow), T. Hield (stroke), fourth; Metropolitan B. C., R. Keat (bow), J. Pilkington (stroke) did not finish.

Senior four-oared shells--Metropolitan B. C., G. C. Johnston (bow), J. T. Hettrick, J. E. Nagle, J. A. Heraty (stroke), captured the prize in 5m. 17s.; Nonpareil B. C., G. A. Delancy (bow), H. Zwinger, I. Maas, J. I. Delancy (stroke), second, by several lengths; Union B. C., H. Roche (bow), E. T. Donovan, M. B. Kaesche, G. J. Eltz (stroke), third; Atalanta B. C., M. Lau (bow), W. Lau, J. Miller, G. K. Storm (stroke), fourth. The Metropolitan crew were the same four men who rowed and won the junior four-oared race two hours before.

Eight-oared shells, with coxswains--New York Athletic Club, E. W. Knickerbocker (bow), E. Weinacht, W. O. Inglis, I. Spalding, F. G. McDougall, J. Cremins, M. J. Austin, E. J. Giannini (stroke), E. Freeman (coxswain), won in 5m. 14s.; Nonpareil B. C., G. Bates (bow), P. H. Morgan, C. H. Beck, H. Zwinger, T. Wade, H. C. Boedecker, I. Maas, J. J. Delancy (stroke), H. W. Nelson (coxswain), 4m. 19s.; Dauntless B. C., A. F. Camacho (bow), C. J. Connell, J. K. Mumford, H. W. Walter, F. H. Burke, L. M. Edgar, V. Mott, M. F. Connell (stroke), I. C. Egerton (coxswain), 5m. 23s.; Metropolitan B. C., D. H. Bransfield (bow), G. C. Johnston, T. S. Mahoney, J. T. Hettrick, J. E. Nagle, J. A. Heraty, K. Kent, J. Pilkington (stroke), M. B. Foy (coxswain), 5m. 33s.

* * * * *

~The~ eighth annual regatta of the Union Boat Club was held on the Harlem River, October 20. The course was from Macomb’s Dam Bridge over a straightaway course of nearly a mile.

In the race for single gigs T. A. Fitzsimmons started off with an easy, telling stroke, which he kept up to the finish, winning apparently without effort, F. J. Burke making second place.

In the double-shell race George, J. Eltz and Harry Roche were defeated by E. Haubold and Olin J. Stephens by three lengths.

The four-oared gig contest was an exciting event. Four crews entered. The winning one was composed of S. Van Zandt (stroke), Louis Walter, F. J. Burke, E. T. Donovan and William Schneider (coxswain). The crew of Coxswain E. P. Murtha got second place.

The starters in the junior single-shell race were Harry Roche, E. T. Haubold and Charles Halkett. When half way over the course Roche dropped out, and while Halkett was overhauling Haubold, the latter upset, making the race a paddle over for Halkett.

The eight-oared shell contest was won by George T. Eltz (stroke), E. B. Schile, William D. Kelley, E. T. Donovan, Charles Halkett, John J. Schile, J. P. Donovan, Harry Roche and Olin J. Stephens (coxswain). Coxswain Schneider’s crew was second.

* * * * *

~James R. Finlay~, ’91, of Colorado Springs, Col., has been chosen to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of Captain Storrow of the Harvard University Crew.

* * * * *

~George W. Woodruff~ has been elected to succeed Carter as captain of the Vale University Crew. Woodruff rowed in the University eight and has played football on the eleven for three years.

* * * * *

~Yale~ class races were rowed October 13, on Lake Saltonstall. The weather was bad. The single scull race for the Cleveland cup was declared off on account of a foul. The mile race between ’92 and ’91 S. was won by ’92 in 5m. 51s. The two-mile race between ’90 and ’91 was won by ’91 in 11m. 36s.

* * * * *

~The~ Harvard class races came off on the Charles River, October 26. Considerable pluck was displayed by the contestants. With a broken oar the sophomore crew made a gallant struggle. The juniors, too, made a manly fight and were beaten only by about half a length by ’90, with ’92 a good third. The seniors thus won their first class race with this crew--Bow, E. W. Dunstan; 2, J. H. Proctor; 3, C. A. Hight; 4, E. P. Pfeiffer; 5, F. E. Parker, captain; 6, A. P. Hebard; 7, E. C. Storrow; stroke, C. E. Schroll; coxswain, J. E. Whitney.

* * * * *

~The~ annual fall regatta of the Columbia College Boat Club was held on the Harlem River, October 19. The contests were between crews in six-oared barges from the Freshman classes in the Schools of Arts and Mines, and between eight-oared shells in which the crews were chosen by lot.

The first race, three-quarters of a mile to a finish opposite the boat-house, was between the freshmen. For a short distance the crews kept together, but after that the Arts crew drew ahead, and landed a winner by four lengths. The victorious crew were: J. C. Travis, bow; F. W. DeGray, No. 2; J. A. Barnard, No. 3; E. P. Smith, No. 4; E. H. Sisson, No. 5; A. C. Hazen, stroke; H. C. Pelton, ’89, coxswain. Their opponents were H. Ries, bow; C. B. Anel, No. 2; E. Wenland, No. 3; E. Flint, No. 4; B. Robertson, No. 5; H. Weatherspoon, stroke; W. Robertson, ’91, coxswain.

The next race between four scratch-eights was more closely contested and more surprising to the students, as the crew that won had been thought an excellent candidate for third place. The winning crew were: Jopling, ’89 (mines), bow; Douglass, ’90 (mines), No. 2; Camman, ’81 (arts), No. 3; Bunzle, ’88 (arts), No. 4; Dempsey, ’91 (law), No. 5; Hewlett, ’90 (mines), No. 6; Bradley, ’90 (mines), No. 7; Pelton, ’89 (mines), stroke; Cheeseborough, ’91 (arts), coxswain.

* * * * *

~The~ Harvard Boat Club held its annual meeting October 9. The following officers were elected for the ensuing year: President, G. F. Keyes, ’89; vice-president, J. P. Hutchinson, ’90; secretary, C. F. Crehore, ’90; manager and treasurer, S. Dexter, ’90.

SHOOTING.

~The~ Minnesota National Guard Rifle Association had a very successful meeting at Fort Snelling. The meeting lasted five days. The weather was miserable except the first day.

The Judgment Match, two shots at 100, 200, 300, 400, 500, and 600 yards, was won by Lieut. T. C. Clark, whose scores at 100, 200, 300, 400, 500, and 600 yards were 3, 3; 4, 4; 4, 5; 5, 5; 3, 5; 3, 5. Total, 49.

The Stillwater Match at 200, 300, and 500 yards, was won by Prof. C. Mandlin with the following fine score: 42, 49, 47, respectively. Total, 138.

Rapidity Match at 200 yards, sixty seconds to fire--won by C. M. Skinner; total. 38 out of 86 hits. On the targets there was not a bulls-eye made.

The Pillsbury Match--cup valued at $100, donated by C. Pillsbury & Co., for teams of six men, 5 shots each, at 200 and 500 yards, was won by Co. C, 1st Regiment Minnesota N. G., with a total of 280 points, and Co. A., 1st Regiment Minn., 259 points; Muscatine Team (Iowa), 215 points.

The Reeve Match (open to commissioned officers of the M. N. G.)--Capt. Skinner, 58, first; Lieut. E. W. Bird, 58, second.

Minneapolis Match (7 shots each at 200, 500 and 600 yards), won by W. J. Bain. Total, 86.

Commissioned Officers Match (10 shots at 200 and 500 yards)--won by Lieut. E. W. Bird. Total, 80.

Enlisted Men’s Match (5 shots at 100, 200, 300 and 500 yards)--won by Corporal Falk, 79.

Company Team Match (7 men, 7 shots each at 200 and 500 yards)--Co. C, 1st Regiment Minnesota, 340; Co. G, 1st Regiment Minnesota, 334; Co. A, 1st Regiment Minnesota, 333; Co. K, 1st Regiment Minnesota, 272; Wisconsin Team, No. 1, 370; Wisconsin Team, No. 2, 370.

Regimental Team Match (10 men from the 1st, 2d and 3d Regiments, M. N. G., 10 shots each at 200, 300 and 500 yards)--1st prize, the State cup, value $250, to be won three years before it becomes the property of the regiment. The 1st Regiment now owns it, having won it three years in succession. The scores were: 1st Regiment Team, M. N. G., 1250; 3d Regiment Team, Wis. N. G., 1225; 3d Regiment Team, M. N. G., 1033; 2d Regiment Team, M. N. G., 838. (The last had but three men.)

Washburn Match (State team match at 200 and 500 yards, to be held by the Adjutant-general of the State winning it for the year)--Minnesota Team, 984; Wisconsin Team, 964; Iowa Team, 846.

St. Paul Match--(10 shots at 200, 300, 500 and 600 yards)--Cole Mandlin, 1st, 164; W. J. Bain, 2d, 163: H. T. Martin, 3d, 162; E. W. Bird, 4th, 161; J. H. Bacon, 5th, 160. The Springfield U. S. musket was used in all the matches.

* * * * *

~At~ the Ohio State Trap Shooters’ League, the league offered $80 in cash prizes for the best average in all shoots except the championship, which was won as follows: Mr. Heikes, of Dayton, O., 214, 1st; Al. Bandle, Cincinnati, O., and C. W. Hart, Huron, O., 213, 2d; Mr. Benscotten, 210, 3d. The championship was undecided as Hart and Heikes tied so often. The shooting of each was very fine. They tied first on 48 out of a possible 50; their second tie was 47 out of a possible 50, and third tie was 49 out of a possible 50. Both being out of cartridges the match was postponed to a future day, and as Mr. Heikes won the cup last year he retains it until this match is decided.

* * * * *

~A match~ between the Wawaset Gun Club, of Trenton, N. J., and the Wingohocking, of Philadelphia, was shot at Germantown, Pa., October 18. Teams of 11 men to shoot at 25 birds--15 single rises and 5 double rises. The Wawaset Club won by 27 birds, the scores being Wawaset, 211; Wingohocking, 184. Of singles, Wawaset hit 138, missed 27; and in doubles, hit 73 and missed 37. Total singles, 211; Total doubles, 64. Wingohocking in singles hit 117 and missed 48, and in doubles hit 67 and missed 43. Total singles, 184; total doubles, 91.

* * * * *

~The~ annual rifle meeting of the 3d Division Rifle Association, of Albany, N. Y., was finished at Rensselaerwyck range, October 13.

The Continuous Military Match (200 yards), with 112 entries, was won by Major C. H. Gaus, with a score of 46; Sergt. Miles, 2d, 46; W. C. Gomp, 3d, 46.

Standard American Target Match--re-entry, 91 entries--W. C. Gomp, 1st, 79; B. C. Andrews, 2d, 79; J. J. Newbery, 3d, 79; A. Donner, 4th, 79.

Championship Marksmanship Badge, open to members of the National Guard, New York, was won by Private D. H. Ogden, with the score of 22 at 200 yards, 25 at 500 yards--total 47; Major Gaus, 2d, with 21 at 200 yards, 25 at 500 yards.

Rest Match at 200 yards, 33 entries--S. Schreiber, 1st, 108--possible, 144.

The Stevens Target Pistol Match--distance, 30 yards, open to pistols and revolvers, 109 entries--Major C. H. Gaus, 85, 1st; M. Roberts, 85, 2d; J. J. Newbery, 82, 3d.

The 2d Separate Company of Binghampton won the 3d Brigade Team Match--a trophy valued at $100, presented by the State. The same Company also won the Company Match, $50, presented by the 10th Battalion, N. G. S. N. Y.

* * * * *

~Mr. J. B. Fellows~, a member of the Massachusetts Rifle Association, at the range at Walnut Hill, October 13, did some fine shooting with a single-shot pistol, 22 calibre, at so yards. The weather conditions were not favorable for big scores. The scores were: 91, 90, 92, 91, 85--total, 449.

* * * * *

~Mr. C. W. Weeks~, President of the Minneapolis (Minn.) Rifle Club, accomplished some extra fine work with the long range rifle, October 10, on a very trying day for rifle-shooting. The shooting was at 800, 900 and 1000 yards, his total of 221 out of a possible 225 being an extremely fine score for such a poor day. His scores were: 800 yards, 73, possible 75; 900 yards, 75, possible 75; 1000 yards, 73, possible 75--total, 221, possible 225.

* * * * *

~The~ Connecticut National Guard held the annual Brigade Rifle Tournament at Hartford, October 17. The day was miserable for rifle-shooting, rain falling nearly all day. The scores made for such a day were good. The Presentation Sword for the best score made by an officer in the Regimental Team match, was won by Lieut. Col. C. E. Thompson, 1st Regiment, with the following score: 28 points at 200 yards--possible 35; 32 points at 500 yards--possible 35.

The enlisted men’s prize, a cabinet, was won by Corporal George Kerr, 4th Regiment, making 31 points at 200 yards--possible 35; 30 points at 500--possible 35.

Sergeant Ripley, of the Hartford City Guard, won the gold badge for highest score in the Company Team match.

The Regimental Team Match (at 200 and 500 yards, 12 men each, 7 shots each, man at each range), was won as follows:

200 YDS. 500 YDS. TOTAL.

1st Regiment 326 319 645 2d “ 316 310 626 3d “ 311 293 604 4th “ 307 290 597 5th Battalion 260 194 454

Company Team Match (at 200 and 500 yards, 6 men, 5 shots per man at each distance), was won as follows:

200 YDS. 500 YDS. TOTAL.

Company K, 1st Regiment 115 117 232 Company C, 4th “ 109 104 213 Company F, 1st “ 113 99 212 Company K, 2d “ 108 98 206 Field and Staff, 1st “ 98 106 204 Company C, 2d “ 109 94 203 Company B, 4th “ 98 101 199 Field and Staff, 2d “ 106 89 195 Company A, 2d “ 97 93 190 Company I, 3d “ 95 91 186 Company D, 2d “ 100 83 183 Company G, 3d “ 93 88 181

TOBOGGAN.

~The~ Essex County Toboggan Club of Orange County elected the following Board of Governors for the season of 1885-89: John Firth, T. W. Hall, E. P. Hamilton, Charles T. Minton, Clarence D. Newell, John H. Sprague, Louis E. Chandler, Dr. T. A. Levy, Dr. G. B. Dowling, R. G. Hopper, Frank Lyman, D. H. Carstaers, Charles Hendricks, N. B. Woodworth, and C. F. Whiting.

YACHTING.

~The~ Ohio Yacht Club at its last annual meeting, October 14, elected the following board of officers Commodore, Geo. H. Ketcham; vice-commodore, H. R. Klauser; rear-commodore, M. T. Huntley; secretary, J. E. Gunckel; treasurer, J. M. Kelsey; fleet surgeon, Dr. J. T. Woods; fleet captain, E. E. Kirk; directors, Geo. H. Ketcham, H. R. Klauser, J. E. Gunckel, J. M. Kelsey, G. W. Bills, W. H. McLyman, E. Bateman, Ed. Mitchell, C. E. Curtis; measurer. E. P. Day; regatta committee, James Dority, Henry Marshall, J. A. Faskins.

* * * * *

~Can~ any of our readers inform us what has become of the following clubs, and what are their present addresses?

_Canoe_: Cincinnati Canoe Club, Cincinnati, O.; Hub Canoe Club, Boston, Mass.; Union Canoe Club, Boston, Mass.; Lake George Canoe Club, Lake George, N. Y.; Philadelphia Canoe Club, Philadelphia; Quaker City Canoe Club, Philadelphia; Chicago Canoe Club, Chicago, Ill.

_Rifle_: Empire Rifle Club, New York City; Germania Rifle Club, Boston, Mass.

_Yachting_: Phœnix Yacht Club, Chicago, Ill.

_Cycling_: Port Schuyler Wheelmen, Port Schuyler, N. Y.; Junior Wheelmen, Washington, D. C.; Clyde Cyclers, Clyde, N. Y.; Clarion Bicycle Club, Philadelphia; Colorado Bicycle Club, Denver, Col.

_Rod and Gun_: Acme Club, Brooklyn, N. Y.; Independent Club, Montreal, Can; St. Lawrence Club, Montreal, P. Q., Can.

_Fishing_: “I Don’t Know” Fishing Club, Cincinnati, O.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

[_This department of_ ~Outing~ _is devoted to answers to correspondents seeking information on subjects appertaining to all sports._]

_A. L. M., Boston, Mass._--We think that you are wrong in your ideas. Dr. L. Wolff, of Philadelphia, after speaking of the complete freedom from ordinary adulteration which he had found in wines and brandy supplied by the California Vintage Co., of 21 Park Place, N. Y. City, goes on to say: “I have also determined their alcoholic strength, and found them to correspond strictly in this respect with the standard of pure and natural wines. As a native of a wine-producing country, I consider myself somewhat of a judge of wines, and regard your products as comparing more than favorably with the wines from abroad.”

* * * * *

_E. M. H., Harrisburg, Pa._--Yes. We have seen some specimens of absolute novelties in calendars. They are of celluloid, decorated in artistic designs, and, besides being useful as calendars, will serve admirably as bric-à-brac ornaments, and are original, pretty, and inexpensive. They are made by Messrs. Weeks & Campbell, 149 Church Street, N. Y. City.

* * * * *

_Professor, St. Charles, Mo._--To gain such a knowledge of football as you desire, your best plan is to obtain copies of the “Book of Rules” and “Football; How to Coach a Team.” Should you desire to do so, you can obtain copies through ~Outing~.

* * * * *

_John S., Wilkesbarre, Pa._--The owner of the canoe is the only man who can furnish you with the required information.

* * * * *

_E. W. C., East Hampton, Mass._--In the opinion of experts, fencing cannot be learnt without a master; but it would be easier to dispense with a master after some progress had been made, than before acquiring the rudiments of the art. It is almost impossible to learn the parries and attacks without some one showing you how to execute them. There are no books of any value on fencing in the English language. The best articles ever published in America on the subject were in ~Outing~ (October, 1887, and February, 1888). All reference to books in French can be found in the former number. The best “theory” ever published is that used by the French army, and published by the Minister of War. It can be obtained on application. But this is a professor’s book, and would be of little value to a pupil ignorant of the first rudiments of the art. Professor Rondelle, whose fencing academy is at No. 106 West 42d Street, and who is the _maître d’armes_ of the Knickerbocker Fencing Club and of the Manhattan Athletic Club, is now at work on a book on fencing, which, when finished, will be the most complete, thorough, and interesting book of the kind ever published.

* * * * *

_A. M. R., Newark, N. J._--For the purpose you mention you can hardly do better than buy some of Rogers’ groups of statuary. They are excellent, both in design and treatment.

* * * * *

_J. H. D., Philadelphia._--You say nothing of the present state of the lawn. We should think that in case you want to refresh an already well-laid lawn, a slight sprinkling of wood ashes would be better than soot.

* * * * *

_Doggy, Milwaukee, Wis._--A whippet is now considered a distinct variety. Originally, it came from a cross between the terrier and greyhound, possibly the Italian greyhound.

* * * * *

_Choke-Bore, 23d Street, City._--We believe the largest bag ever made in one day was that on Mr. Lloyd Price’s estate in North Wales in 1885, viz., 5,086 rabbits, 1 grouse, 1 snipe, and 1 woodpigeon. Lord Walsingham’s big bag of grouse, of which you will find an account in the Outing Club, is, however, much more remarkable.

* * * * *

_Fox-hunter, Baltimore, Md._--You will find that you can obtain first-rate riding-boots from R. M. Sheridan, 30 Broad Street, New York City.

* * * * *

_Medicus, Pittsburgh._--Dogs of large breeds grow until they are about two years old. You need not, therefore, be perturbed about your puppy, for he will probably be as large as you can desire.

* * * * *

_Joseph M. R. City._--If you want a dog “as fast as a greyhound” he must be of that breed, for no other dog is as fast. But for the purpose you mention, we should think such cross as between a Scotch deerhound and a Great Dane would suit you.

* * * * *

_Sportsman, Quebec, Can._--The best receipt for making ordinary cloth goods water-proof is the following, which was used by old Jack Russell, the noted Devonshire sporting parson. Take alum 6 ozs., sugar of lead 3 ozs.; dissolve this in 12 quarts of boiling water, and let the mixture stand 6 hours, with an occasional stir. Then strain off the liquid, and soak the cloth for 48 hours, and dry it in the shade. It is scarcely necessary to say that the cloth is best treated thus _before_ being made up into a suit.

* * * * *

_Gymnast, Pittsburgh, Pa._--For a gymnast’s outfit, as well as for all kinds of gymnastic apparatus, you will do well to apply to Messrs. A. J. Reach & Co., 1,022 Market Street, Philadelphia.

* * * * *

_Farmer, Westchester Co., N. Y._--The wonderful amount of butter made from the milk of one cow, as to which you inquire, is the record of “Shadeland Maud,” one of the Holstein-Friesian herd belonging to Messrs. Powell Bros., Springboro, Crawford County, Pa. This extraordinary record has, however, since been eclipsed by their “Shadeland Boon.”

* * * * *

_Cruiser, Lake George._--You cannot do better than write to the Western Arms and Cartridge Company, 47 and 49 State Street, Chicago, Ill., for a catalogue of Douglass’s boats, for which they are agents. You can purchase from them such a craft as you desire for a very reasonable sum.

[Illustration:

COPYRIGHTED.

ICE-YACHT “NORTHERN LIGHT,” FEBRUARY 14, 1887.

FROM AN INSTANTANEOUS PHOTOGRAPH BY C. E. SCHAFFER, OF POUGHKEEPSIE, N. Y.]

~Outing.~

~Vol. XIII.~ JANUARY, 1889. ~No.~ 4.

AMONG THE TAURUS MOUNTAINS.

BY L. B. PLATT.

Quitting the broad highways of travel, it is often refreshing to turn aside from beaten paths and strike off into new regions, where foot of tourist and pen of magazine writer have not awakened the sacred silences, startled the resident deities, and broadcast their treasures upon the world.

Through such a byway among the mountains of Taurus, in Asia Minor, from the sea-coast at Mersina, through half-ruined Tarsus, and across the wide Cilician Plain to the ancient cities of Marash and Aintab we made our journey.

There were three of us, Gould, a picturesque youth of seventeen mild summers, with carefully mapped side-whiskers of a style that had never before invaded that sequestered portion of the world, and afforded unceasing entertainment to the curious and admiring natives, Lee, a missionary at Marash, in the interior, and myself, the modest chronicler of our adventures. With three horses of the light-stepping Arabian blood, whose native turf is the sharp, loose stones of the mountains, another of less noble lineage to carry our pack, and an Armenian servant to run behind, we entered upon the Great Plain of Cilicia.

Immediately we were upon historic ground. Alexander had been here before us, wading breast-deep around that rugged promontory in the distance, beaten by the thundering Mediterranean surges, and sweeping the plain of his enemies with the velocity and destructiveness of a cyclone. He had met Darius the Persian here and annihilated his magnificent array in the world-famous battle of Issus, where “all day long the noise of battle rolled between the mountains and the (summer) sea.”

Cicero had been here as Roman Governor of the Province of Cilicia; had chased the bandit mountaineers into the fastnesses of the hills, defeating them there and flushing his maiden sword with victory, for which he ambitiously claimed, but never received, a Roman Triumph.

Antony and Cleopatra had been here, sailing the River Cydnus--the same Cydnus in whose cold waters Alexander bathed, overheated by the tropic sun, and almost lost his life. And poor Antony, also overheated, lost body and soul together by the no less tropic love glances of the Egyptian Queen. And who could wonder at it, if, as Shakespeare tells us--

“The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar’d all description: she did lie In her pavilion--cloth-of-gold of tissue-- O’er-picturing that Venus where we see The fancy outwork nature: on each side her Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids.

* * * * *

At the helm A seeming mermaid steers.”

[Illustration: A CARPENTER OF THE TAURUS.]

And here also, on the banks of this same river, swollen and rapid with the melting snows of Taurus, not far from the sea, is the forlorn-looking city where Saul of Tarsus was born to the trade of a tentmaker and the exalted career of the greatest of the Apostles. In Tarsus, once a free city under the Roman Empire, her coins proudly stamped “Metropolis,” at one time more illustrious with academies and schools of philosophy than Athens or Alexandria, the ancient Marseilles of the Mediterranean, real estate has taken a fearful tumble since Paul boasted that he was a citizen of “no mean city,” for he “was born in Tarsus.” Seven thousand squalid inhabitants still cling with amazing tenacity to life, and carry most of the real estate around with them as personal property. There is absolutely nothing of interest to be said of it, for it is not even a ruin. It is the degenerate scion of a noble ancestry, in “looped and windowed raggedness,” whose only claim to respectability is the “high connections” of past history; and of these the most is made, for among other pretensions not the least is the ancient one, that to this very port the prophet Jonah set sail when “he entered into a ship of Tarshish and paid the fare thereof.”

Riding leisurely through the suburbs, we are soon in the heart of the Great Plain. Two hundred and seventy miles from east to west, sixty-eight in greatest breadth from white-capped sea to snow-capped mountain, are the vast dimensions of this Cilician prairie. The soil is as fertile as nature ever made, the rich alluvium of three rivers constantly depositing itself in thick layers, century after century, and yet it is a comparative desert, often stricken to death with famine and calling upon the pitying world for help from starvation. And why is it? The only sufficient answer is--the Turkish Government!

Our first night we spent in the city of Adana, the present metropolis of the Plain, a city of 30,000 inhabitants, as geographers tell us, and, as they do not tell us, of as many mosquitoes to each inhabitant. We made a careful estimate of them that very night. In fact it was not without considerable anxiety that we waited to see how many, and in what condition the survivors would be who would respond to the breakfast call next morning. For myself, I had thought that that morning would never come; or, if it did, it would come too late for me to derive any benefit from it in this present life. I noticed that the roosters around town seemed to entertain the same opinion. They started in about midnight with considerable confidence, and once in a while would all take hold and lift together in one grand crow, and then settle back disappointed--there was a hitch somewhere, the sun would not up. In the meantime, a tender regard for the feelings of my readers would not allow me to attempt any description of our sufferings--only this, that after exhausting every stratagem I could think of to outwit the enemy--all to no purpose--I simply threw back the bedclothes in the madness of despair, and said,“Come on, then, if you want to!” And they came. They came in ranks and squadrons, wing touching wing, like Milton’s fallen angels when they went down with whir and rustle and clatter of stumpy wings into the pit. And as fast as they came I lifted my hand and slaughtered them--or rather, _thought_ I did.

Then it occurred to me, in my half-asleep condition, that I would gather up those dead mosquitoes and pile them into a monument, so that if I should be devoured alive there would at least be something to mark the spot. But before I could find mosquitoes enough to lay the corner-stone, I fell asleep. I dreamed I was bodily lifted up on wings and borne through the air. I passed over island and ocean and continent and ocean again. And just as I came in sight of my home and saw my mother on the doorstep, there was an awful crash, and then a groan, and somebody said, “Great Caesar!” I awoke to see my friend Lee sitting upright in bed, listening with head bent forward, as if his life depended on his hearing something--his hands were uplifted and spread wide. Then there was the feeble first note of a song in the air, and the hands came together with fearful precision, and I thought, “Well, that mosquito has sung his doxology any way.” But there was no more sleep that night, and when the morning came we were a sorry company to think of starting on a long pilgrimage that day.

[Illustration: A TIN-SMITH’S SHOP.]

All the forenoon we were making preparations for our journey. There were horses to obtain, and donkeys and saddles and provisions and servants, so that it was the middle of the afternoon before we were ready to start. We were going that day’s journey in company with a small caravan. Now, if a person has never seen a caravan get under way, he has something still in this world to live for. In the first place, when the horses and donkeys are brought together, as they were in this case, into the narrow courtyard of the house to be loaded, it seems to occur to all of them at once that the proper thing for them to do under such circumstances is--to kick. And they evidently think that what is worth doing at all, is worth doing well.

[Illustration: A MOUNTAIN MENDICANT.]

I left my horse standing a moment to run up stairs, and when I returned, which was at the call of Mr. Lee to “come and hold your horse,” that animal of mine had made a circuit round that yard, like a comet round the sun--heels first, and left a clean swath behind him all the way. And when you add to all this confusion the crying of servants, the barking and yelping of dogs, the howling of babies, and above all, the screaming of camels and that excruciating bray of the jackass which makes you willing to stake all you possess that he can’t do that again and live through it; why, then you can gather some faint idea of what the starting of a caravan is on a small scale.

We mounted our horses and marched off in magnificent procession. They say that the grandest moment in the life of a boy--that moment when first he feels that there was no hap-hazard about his being born, but is conscious that he came into this world for a purpose, is when for the first time he gets on a pair of red-topped boots. They are the cradle and that is the birthday of all his after greatness. And I think that it is equally true that the very sublimest and _topmost_ event in the life of any young man is when, with a belt full of pistols, a heart bursting with valor and a spur on his heel he puts his foot into the stirrup and swings himself across the back of a horse. I am ready to admit that it was so with me. I felt as though somebody ought to go ahead on the road and let people know that I was coming but that I wasn’t dangerous and probably wouldn’t hurt anybody. I remembered that it was the same country where the Apostle Paul had been taken for Mercury and Barnabas for Jupiter, and I thought that likely enough this people would take it into their heads that I was the War God, Mars, let loose upon them and careering through their country breathing fire from my nostrils and striking out hot lightnings from my horse’s hoofs.

[Illustration: A COUNTRY BELLE.]

I had two pistols; one of them had a barrel about the size of a quill tooth-pick. But I knew from what experience I had had with that weapon that all that was necessary would be to find the right man and somebody to hold him and it would then be only a question of time--I should certainly kill him. But my other pistol was altogether a different affair. It was as much too large as the other was too small. It was somewhere from one to three feet long and extended from my third rib down to my knee-pan, like a lightning rod down the side of a chimney, and kept me bolt upright and stiff in my saddle. It was so formidable that I would not have liked to fire it off without getting behind something. And I thought that if worse come to worst and we met a Circassian coming to rob us, I would just hand it over to him and let him discharge it, and watch and see what became of him.

But there was one member of our party whom I must not forget to mention, and that was the soldier or military police--the “zabtieh” as he is called. For the sake of convenience we will call him the “Government,” because he represents the Government. The advantage of having him with you is, not so much that he is a kind of traveling masked battery, concealed mostly by earthworks, nor that he always provides himself with a fast horse so that in case anything happens he can turn tail and make off so speedily that the next party going over the road will not be left without a guide and protector--not so much either that his gun is likely to be a flint-lock without any flint in it, as that when you have one of these ornamental gentlemen traveling in your company, and are attacked and plundered, the Turkish Government is bound to make good your losses in such a way that your great grandchildren, if they are healthy and long-lived, will have the benefit of them. It was this last consideration which determined us to take a zabtieh. One of the most interesting relics of antiquity, and almost the only voice out of the past, from this historic plain, is a simple monument of a single stone with the Latin inscription to the effect that a certain Roman captain--giving his name--“erects this pillar to the gods of his native land.” It was the Roman way of giving vent to homesickness, and this true patriot, stationed on these inhospitable shores so far from home, has left this pathetic monument of his longing to return. It is a beautiful tribute to that tender touch of nature which makes the whole world kin. A good, true heart he must have buckled under that Roman cuirass. Let us hope that he got his furlough with full pay.

[Illustration: HADJAM--OR NATIVE BARBER.]

The sun had dropped behind the mountain wall and the moon had taken his place with scarce diminished radiance when we approached the long-forgotten town of Mopsuestia. The atmosphere was so clear that we had seen the town for at least three hours, apparently only just ahead of us, but it never seemed to come any nearer. In fact, it seemed to be moving ahead on the road somewhat faster than our party. I tried to remember whether I had not somewhere read that at a certain season of the year corresponding with our first of May, the inhabitants of this country take up their houses on their backs and go off with them to a new place. But I could not make myself remember anything like that.

[Illustration: ON THE MARCH.]

At last it became dark, and I was glad of it, because I thought that if those people _were_ really going off with that city, they would probably want to set it down and rest when night came on, and then we should have a chance to overtake them.

And now the moonlight had effect upon us and we began to sing. First our Armenian servant, Crecor, started in. I thought I recognized the tune and was about to join in, when suddenly it changed to something else. At first I was sure it was “I need thee every hour”--next minute it was “Pull for the shore.” And I said: “All right, I would just as lief sing that.” But before I could pull my diapason and get my mouth open, it had changed again to “I want to be an angel.” “All right,” said I, “so do I.” But before I could join with him and be an angel, he had flown the track and was off again. When at last he wound up and put on the flourishes with a strain that limped on one leg like “Yankee Doodle,” and on the other like the “Old Hundredth,” and finally leaped up into the air and vanished in a heart-rending cry of anguish topped off by a howl that shook the stars, I did not try to follow him. I secretly suspected that, no matter how badly he wanted to be an angel, he never would be until he could make better music than that.

At last we came to the old river Pyramus. As we passed over the ancient stone bridge, fast falling into ruin, the musical click-clang of our horses’ hoofs on the archway was echoed back by the swift-running waters of the river beneath. Each wave of the stream seemed to be lifting itself to look at us and was struck down again by the arrowy glance of the moon, shivering and running away to tell the pebbles along the shore what a strange people with hats on, and even shirts and pants, they had seen.

But now, right ahead of us loomed up the walls of the hotel where we were to pass the night. It was by far the most high-toned hotel in the place--in fact it was the only one. It consisted of four stone walls about ten feet high without any roof. There was no bed-chamber, no bed, no carpet, no floor, no light, no fire, nothing to sit down on, nothing to eat and, so far as we could discover, no proprietor. But there _was_ a door and it was locked for fear someone might imagine there was something inside, I suppose, and then go in and steal it; and by ill-luck someone had gone off with the key. Crecor went off to hunt it up and soon returned with the clerk of the hotel who ushered us in, horses and all, through the front door into the parlor. We had thought of telegraphing ahead to have the best chamber reserved for us, but were glad that we had saved ourselves that expense. For it happened that we were the first who registered that night, with the exception of a donkey and a man and his wife, and so we had the whole range of the hotel. We selected the corner where there seemed to be the fewest stones and least rubbish and cleared a place to put up our tent. And now for something to eat.

[Illustration: CIRCASSIAN MOUNTAINEERS.]

Lee had brought along a chest full of bread, cake, canned goods, chicken, eggs, etc., so we were well provided with all but the appetite. We did not any of us want anything after that long, hot, dusty ride but just a watermelon apiece, and then to go to bed in the shortest and speediest manner. But to fall asleep was another matter. How it seemed to my traveling companions I don’t know, but there was such a horror of desolation about that place, such an awful, oppressive night-silence that made me think of all that I had ever read in the Bible about jackals howling in ruined places, hooting owls and creeping foxes and satyrs crying to their fellows, that I determined as soon as I struck the bed that if anybody got to sleep before I did he would have to be lively about it. I wasn’t going to be the last awake that night, anyway, and so I bent all my energies to the task. I had heard that if anyone would start slowly and count five hundred, it would surely put them to sleep. And so I began. I reached four hundred and fifty, and was just falling off into slumber when it occurred to me that I had only fifty more to count, and maybe I wouldn’t make it, and, of course, that excited me and woke me up. I thought that perhaps I had counted too fast, and concluded to give it another trial. began more slowly. I kept saying to myself, “Now, not too fast!” and of course. that kept me awake. I reached 499, and while I was waiting for something to happen before I said 500, the thought flashed through my head, “Well now, it seems to me it wasn’t 500 that puts folks to sleep after all, it was a thousand.” All right, I would try a thousand. I did. I went on to two thousand, three thousand, five thousand. I became wrought up. I said to myself, “I’ll do it if it takes forty thousand. I’ll lie on this bed all night, and all day to-morrow, if need be, and count a million.” And I believe I would have done it, if another plan had not happened to occur to me.

[Illustration: A NOMAD MOTHER.]

I had read somewhere that if a person could only get their body into a certain position, no matter how wide awake they might be, sleep would immediately follow. I said to myself: “Now, how glad I am that I happened to think of that.” But, then, I couldn’t remember what that position was. Never mind, I would try them all, and see if I could strike it. I had rather a narrow field to operate in, for my iron bedstead wasn’t wide enough to turn over in without rolling out. And it wasn’t long enough, so that my feet could not go to bed at the same time I did. At last I think I must have hit it, for I fell asleep, and my last thought was, “I’m glad my mother does not know where I am to-night.”

Strange to say, it had not rained in that country for four solid months, but that night it rained as though it had been saved up for our special benefit. It waked us up at midnight. It drove in above and ran in below. It rolled down the folds of the tent like so many waterspouts. We all sat up in bed and looked at each other. We wanted to say something, all of us, but each seemed to be waiting for the other and wishing he would say it first, until, there being nothing else to do, Lee carefully gathered together the folds of the tent so that the water all ran down into his bed (which he didn’t discover until he laid down again). I put on my overcoat and again crawled into bed. The last I saw of Gould, he was lying flat on his back holding an umbrella with both hands, hoisted and spread over him, and trying to sleep.

Next morning we arose before daylight, called for our hotel bill, paid it (it was only fifteen cents for the whole company), mounted our horses and rode out of the front door with a long day’s journey of forty-five miles before us, a blazing sun above us, and the River Pyramus flowing by our side. The memory of that day is like one of those winterbird’s nests swinging on the tree, frozen stiff with rain and dreary enough, without a warm feather in it or a note of song. I have a confused recollection of a sun that was unmistakably hot, a white road that made it hotter, and a desert wind that was “Hottentotter.” I recollect, too, that I rode a horse that was never happy unless he was ahead, and I was never happy unless he was behind. I remember that I carried a sun umbrella, and every time a horse tried to go ahead of mine he would elevate his hind feet and lift me into the air, still holding on to my umbrella, until I had all the experience of going up in a balloon. But I _do_ have a very distinct recollection of every time I came down again. It seemed to me that that saddle was all pommel, for though I went up and came down perhaps a hundred times, I never could land anywhere else.

We passed trains of camels, herds of donkeys, men and women on foot, and here and there a Mohammedan under the shade of a tree or wall going through with a gymnastic performance of standing on his head, which is the way he prefers to say his prayers. On every side was wilderness, parched and withered, without a spear of grass or a green leaf. But all things must have an end, and so must our journey. We made up our minds when we went to bed on the third night that next morning we would get up at three o’clock and push through, a journey of a day and a half, to Marash.

And what a morning that was!

We had pitched our tent in a valley, between the high perpendicular walls of two mountains. The moon rode full overhead and passed along just on the broken edge of one of them, now leaping a chasm, now dodging behind a crag, now looking down through a leafy gorge with a brilliancy of glory such as our moon never attains, except in the frostiest nights of winter, by the aid of a ground covered with snow. I was able to read a newspaper with ease. I tried it, holding it off at a natural distance. I could see distinctly every feature and line of a photograph of my mother which I took from my inside vest pocket and gazed at, as I thought possibly for the last time. I could even see to read my own writing as I penned what I thought might possibly be my last words. What made me think so was this: We were to start that morning through a mountain pass infested by robbers. Now, I hope my readers will meditate on this, and try to be as scared as I was. It was the same pass in which Mr. Montgomery, of Marash, with a friend, had been robbed but a short time previous. They had passed a group of Circassians, the highwaymen of that region, lying by the roadside, holding their horses and waiting for someone to come along. They had gone but a short distance when there was a clatter of hoofs around the bend of the mountain, a flashing of pistol barrels leveled straight at their heads, and a command to dismount and give over. And there was nothing else to do. The five Circassians stood over them with knives and made them empty their pockets and give up their weapons. Then they took their horses and left them to make the best of their way home on foot, some twenty or thirty miles across the mountain. And now we were entering that same pass. And it was night.

We had not gone far, groping our way up the narrow trail in single file over rough stones, not speaking above a whisper, and wishing that our horses’ hoofs were shod with velvet, when Lee turned about and said: “Have you got your shooting-irons ready? We must be pretty near the place now where Montgomery was robbed.”

Oh dear! I felt awful. I wanted to go back. It wasn’t what I came for, to be shot down on that cold mountain in the dark by a shirtless Circassian. The next moment we came where there was a big tree right ahead of us and oh, horrors! we could hear distinctly the voices of several men in conversation. At the same time I thought I heard something in the bushes beside me. Then I was sure of it. Then I saw it move. Then a man stepped out into the road close to me. I drew my pistol and held it where he could see the flash of the barrel in the moonlight.

He stood still and I passed him, turning round in my saddle to keep my eye on him.

We all had our pistols out and were ready with pale cheeks, and hearts that thumped like drumsticks.

But we passed by unmolested.

Lee said afterwards that if we had not been well armed and looked so formidable we should probably have been attacked and robbed. I was glad that I _looked_ so.

The only other incident of any importance before we reached Marash was the downfall of the Turkish “Government.” He was riding ahead in grand style, full of the proud consciousness of having brought us safely through the mountains, pricking his horse with the sharp corner of the stirrup, which is used for a spur, and then playfully reining him up on his haunches, when suddenly, but with the utmost grace, horse and rider, with pistols and knives and gun, with brown rags and red rags fluttering in the wind, head down and feet uppermost, went tumbling over into the bushes. When he appeared again, unhurt but drooping at both ends like a dog when the boys have just got the pan securely fastened and are urging him to run, it was a sight that did us all good. We hadn’t laughed before in three days, and from that moment our feelings began steadily to improve. At last we came out into the open plain and ascending a rise of ground, saw in the far distance, hanging on the side of the mountain like an avalanche which has run half-way down and stopped in a gorge, the white houses of the city of Marash.

Three hours after we were riding through its streets, climbing up and up until we reached the high wall surrounding the buildings of the Mission. We rode in through the gate, and before we could dismount the missionaries were upon us. They welcomed us so heartily that we could not have been happier if we had returned home to America.

[Illustration]

CALIFORNIAN LYRICS.