Part 40

“If at the commencement of a turn the striker’s ball is “wired” from all the other balls, either through the interposition or interference of any hoop or peg, such ball being distant less than one yard from that hoop or peg and having been placed there by the stroke of an adversary, the striker may at his option lift his ball and play it from any spot within a yard of where it lies. A ball is “wired” when (1) any part of it cannot be driven in a straight line towards every part of the ball aimed at; or (2) a wire or peg so interferes with the backward swing of the mallet that the striker cannot freely aim at every part of the ball.”

_The Croquet Association Gazette_ points out four drawbacks to this law, viz., two measurements, lifting the ball, and the problem of deciding whether a ball be wired or not.

Also the definition of wiring demands careful attention. The whole target presented by the ball must be open; if the left-hand edge of the striker’s ball cannot be driven in a straight line so as to hit the right-hand edge of the object ball then the balls are wired. So this law gives the open shot to everyone who is not wired by his own mallet or that of his partner, should his ball be placed within three feet of a hoop or peg by an adversary. There still remains the chance of safely “masking” the balls from the shot of an opponent who is left in the open, and the leading players were quite equal to doing this last season. But “masking” the balls requires considerable ability, whilst any fool could jam an adversary’s ball in a hoop.

The law with regard to “taking off” without moving both balls has now been remodelled, and now that part of Law 17 reads: “In so doing (_i.e._, taking off) he must move or shake each ball perceptibly, should he fail to do so the balls are to remain where they lie or be replaced at the option of the striker, and the turn ceases. The striker, if challenged, must be prepared to assert definitely that he saw both balls move or shake, and in default of such assertion the balls shall not be considered to have been perceptibly moved or shaken. If the two balls do not touch before and in the act of taking croquet the adversary may require the stroke to be played again. In taking croquet the striker’s ball shall not be in contact with more than one ball.”

The result of this law is that this offence is no longer regarded as a foul stroke, but is treated much the same as the offence of driving one of the balls over the boundary in a croquet stroke; except that in the case of not moving the balls the offender can elect whether he will replace the balls as they were before the stroke was made, or whether he will leave them where they are at the end of the stroke.

It is quite right to make the penalty for non-moving or shaking less severe than formerly, for since it must generally be a matter of rather close observation to determine whether a ball has moved or no, and since the striker is obviously in the best position to observe this, it was difficult enough for some strikers to confess that they had not moved the ball, and it is to be hoped that the lightening of the punishment may lead to more pleas of guilty.

Of a verity there seems to be no end to the laws of croquet, and it requires quite a gifted head to carry them all, with their various alterations and additions; and the edition of the “Laws of Croquet” for 1906 is likely to revive the industry of the painstaking man who learns up the laws by heart as well as he can, and always carries a copy of the book in his pocket with a view to winning an occasional bet over some well-engineered discussion about the laws of croquet.

An interesting feature of the plans of the Croquet Association for next season is that the Committee have decided to use composition balls in all Association tournaments instead of wood, which up to this year has been the standard ball for tournaments.

Certainly the composition balls are in every way more satisfactory than wood: they are absolutely accurate as to shape, weight and size, the colour does not come off, and they are impervious to wet, whilst they are more durable and cleaner in all weathers than the wooden balls. Composition balls are, moreover, easier for running hoops than are those made of wood, they have greater resiliency and more drive about them; on the other hand, their resiliency is so great that it is very difficult to “roll up” two balls together across the ground. But since this rolling-up is nine times out of ten a foul stroke, to the extent that the mallet has more than one contact with the ball during the stroke, the more the roll-up is discouraged the better for the game. It is a counsel of perfection, but we know some players who go so far as to say that under favourable conditions the composition balls make the game of croquet too easy.

QUID.

True Fishing Stories.

Some years ago an acquaintance of mine solemnly assured me that he had once, when fly-fishing for trout, hooked a rabbit on the bank behind him, and with his forward stroke brought it over his head and dumped it down among the trout he was seeking to capture. Possibly he was using a “hare’s lug,” and let his imagination do the rest. Of course, I was too polite to question the performance. It is surprising what a good fly-rod will stand in this way. Fishing in wooded streams you now and then get very fast in a branch behind, and you do not find it out till the full force of your cast comes into action, and then the tree seems to be almost coming up by the roots, while rod and tackle do not give way, and are not a bit the worse. This reminds me that one day a few years ago I lent my rod for the afternoon to a man, a more or less distant cousin, who had come without one. He was a fisherman of long experience, so I had no misgivings about it. When I came in towards evening I found that he had been unfortunate enough to catch up in a tree and break the top just at the ferrule, and had had it mended by the village joiner. Accidents will happen in the best regulated families, but I did wish he had let the joiner alone. He then proceeded to add insult to injury by telling me that it was _my_ fault for having such a “rotten” rod, and a good deal more in the same strain. I have had worse rods and I have had better ones in my possession, but I had caught a great many trout with it at one time or another, and it was the only one I had with me. No doubt it is a good thing we are not all turned out of the same mould, but had the positions been reversed I am certain that I should have absolutely grovelled abjectly in my desire to avert his wrath and obtain his forgiveness.

But to go back to the rabbit. The nearest approach I ever made to this feat was when on a certain occasion I was fishing just above the town bridge at Marlborough, and my pal was standing on the bridge looking on. I suddenly heard a yell from him, and—well I did not throw _him_ over my head impaled on the hook of a “red quill,” but only a piece of his nose! It was at this very same place, possibly the same day, that I was drawing in a fish of quite a respectable size, when a small boy in the gallery sung out “Whoi don’t cher chuck down the rod and ketch ’old o’ the string?” I daresay the method might have been quite as successful. I know it is not, or was not then, a very attractive spot to be fishing. It is an unsavoury place, but I was there all the same, and some one ate the trout: _I_ did not. Then here is another incident bearing on the subject. When I was at Winchester, alas! many years ago, I was down “Water meads,” and saw a cow tearing along at full tilt, pursued at a distance of about thirty yards by a youth with outstretched arm, and a rod presented horizontally in the direction of the animal, also going for all he was worth, and he looked as if he soon would be worth very little. He had hooked “the coo,” which not unnaturally took to its heels, and he was no doubt anxious to save some of his cast, or haply his fly, or even land the coo. I do not remember how it ended, but possibly in after years he may have related to his sons, who I hope are also Wykehamists, how he once threw a coo over his head with a “Hammond’s guinea rod” into the Itchen!

Many of your readers have probably occasionally hooked a swallow or martin; on the two or three occasions on which this has happened to me the bird has not been hooked in the mouth, but round the neck, the fly forming a running noose on the gut. But I do not think many will have bagged a duck with a fly. It was a large bushy fly, and the wind caught it as I cast, and instead of its falling under the opposite bank, about two yards of gut stood straight up out of the water, and then fell over up stream just in time to meet an old Aylesbury duck with a brood of ducklings paddling down stream. It fell by the side of her, and though 1 tried to pick it up before she got it, she was too quick for me and snapped it up. There was “such a row as never was.” She quacked and splashed, and beat with her wings, and dived and did all she knew. This time I did “chuck down the rod and ketch ’old o’ the string” for fear of breaking my top joint. I hand-played her and landed her, and she was no worse for her adventure, being only just held by the skin of the mouth.

I lately saw a note in the _Field_ about a trout which had been hooked twice in the same day, having got the fly the first time, both flies being found in its mouth. I once came across a good trout rising in a still mill-tail; the wheel was at rest and all the water going round the other way; I rose him and left my fly in his mouth. As I observed that he did not seem to have taken much interest in the proceeding I put another fly on as quickly as I could, cast over him, hooked and landed him, and took both flies out of his mouth. His size, so far as I can remember, would have been somewhere about 1½ lb. Evidently he could have suffered no pain, and there can be little doubt that when the hook gets hold of just the skin of the mouth, which happens the most frequently in fly-fishing, though sometimes painful places are pierced, the fish feels only the resistance and the pull which tells him he has to fight for his life. One would think that a trout of about ¾ lb. could hardly swallow a pebble 2 inches across without, if not pain, at least some inconvenience. Yet it took my fly and appeared fairly healthy. One wonders why or how it came to get such a thing inside it. Last spring I twice caught in a north country river, in the same pool but not on the same day, a trout weighing 6 oz. or 7 oz., with a big stone loach jammed tight down its throat, and the tail sticking out of its mouth. It was quite a question whether the loach could be pulled out without breaking. Yet both of these trout took the fly with a dash, and made a gallant fight in the rather swollen stream, considering their inches. Those who know the Broad Water at Wansford in the East Riding are aware that the field on the west side slopes abruptly down considerably below the level of the water. I was once casting over a rising fish some distance out, and in drawing in for a fresh cast my line had to travel back over the edge of the bank itself, so that the fly might very easily get hung up tight on a snag or plant: this was what I supposed had happened, so I began pulling to see if it would come away without my having to go and release it and so scare the fish, when to my astonishment the line flew off in the direction of the opposite bank. I had actually hooked in the belly a fish lying under the bank, which was played and duly brought into the net.

I one day hooked a fish in Foston Beck, which dived straight into a bed of weeds from which no persuasion could move it. I tried hand-lining, but could do nothing; then an idea occurred to me: I spiked the rod in the ground, reeling up the line till it was just taut without any strain on, and strolled a couple of hundred yards down the bank to where my friend was fishing. I told him what had happened and stayed with him a bit, and then by-and-by returned to my place. Nothing was changed; the line stretched straight from the top ring to the weed as if purposely fastened there. I picked the rod up very carefully, and putting on a sudden strain hauled down stream, when out came the trout before he knew what was up, to be towed over the weeds into the net, and finally the basket.

Foston Beck reminds me of an incident which I would have gone a long way to see, but which I had the good fortune to witness while I was sitting on the bank under a thorn-bush eating sandwiches. I suppose I must have been very quiet, for a kingfisher came and pitched on a twig of the thorn, and remaining there a short time presently quitted it, hovered a moment over the water, pounced down, and came up with a little fish in his bill, just steadied himself on the twig, and then flew off. It was a pretty sight, and one that it is not often given to an angler to see, although he sees many pleasing things which no one else does. And now I must bring my rambling paper to an end; but just one more story first.

Every one knows what a bore it is to have to seem amused at sallies of wit which do not appeal to one, but a bit of unconscious humour from one who would be astonished to be thought funny makes one sometimes want to shout with laughter. On a certain day I was counting the spoil preparatory to going home. I do not think the bag was anything very striking, but there was a long, black, unwholesome fish among the others, which I suggested to the keeper had better be thrown away. “Oh,” said he, “there’s a gentleman there who has come a long way and has not got anything; I think he would be rather glad to have it to take home.” So he took it off and entered into negotiations with the said angler who was taking down his rod close by. I did not hear what went on, but just caught one sentence, viz., “H’m, the gentleman must be an ‘eepi-kewer,’” and he put it in the bag.

GAMMEL MAN.

P.S.—Since writing the foregoing notes there has recurred to my mind another amusing fish story. A friend of mine, he, forsooth, whose nasal organ I hooked on Marlborough Town Bridge, having had a day given him on a very fine stretch of preserved water, killed with dry fly a nice basket of trout from about 1¼ lb. up to 2 lb., which I saw and much admired. The best of these fish he sent to his old father by the hands of a man who had just come home from India, and who, to distinguish him from his brother, was spoken of as Mr. —— from India. They were duly delivered, but with the message that a gentleman had brought some fish from India! Whereupon my friend’s father, who would have greatly appreciated such trout, promptly ordered them to be thrown away. And thrown away they were, to the sore vexation of the successful and dutiful fisherman when he heard thereof.

A Hundred Years Ago.

(FROM THE _SPORTING MAGAZINE_ OF 1806.) BOXING. D. MENDOZA AND H. LEE.

Friday, March 21st, 1806, being appointed for the above pugilists to exhibit themselves in a pitched battle for 50 guineas, the same took place at Grinstead Green, three miles and a half through the town of Bromley in Kent. The combatants met in a 25-feet roped ring, formed on the Green soon after one o’clock, attended by their seconds, Bill Ward and Bill Gibbons for Mendoza, and the Game Chicken and Gulley for Lee.... Current betting in the ring was 3 to 1 on Mendoza....

The battle was continued until the fifty-second round, very much to the disadvantage of Lee, who, however, showed himself game by the very severe beating he had received. In the fifty-third round, which ended the fight, he fell without a blow, and Mendoza’s seconds did not choose to give away a chance as they had done several times in the course of the battle; and the matter being referred to two gentlemen who acted as umpires, they declared Mendoza the winner, after a sharp contest of one hour and ten minutes.

OBSERVATIONS.—In this contest, which it was supposed would be the most hollow thing ever attempted, the spectators were very agreeably surprised. Lee, although he did not act the part of a game man in the strict sense of the word in falling without a blow, yet he was not deficient in skill and resolution so as to disenable him to rouse the admiration of the amateurs. He never had a chance of winning, although he made a very good fight; for the odds, to nearly the end of the contest, were treble against him to what they were at the commencement, and at the end, when Mendoza became weak, they were never less than four to one. He got himself miserably beaten in the former part of the fight by making play, but his seconds did not suffer him so to act at the latter part. He had the advantage in stature and length of arm, and he fought with his left hand extended, constantly sawing. Mendoza had a decided advantage over his opponent in the knowledge of bruising, which the beating Lee received will most fully demonstrate. Dan stopped most admirably, and he seldom hit with his right hand without the desired effect. With his left he sometimes led himself into an error, for he generally hit over his man and left his right side exposed. He showed himself a pleasing fighter, as he always has done, and his fatigue at the end of the fight was no more than momentary, for he was quite fresh after the contest was over, and his only suffering was a blow he had on the left eye and another on the nose, which was broken in a fight many years since.

Another account says the contest between Mendoza and Harry Lee was much more serious to the former than has been generally described. About the thirtieth round the odds changed from five to even betting; and though Lee declared himself compelled at last to give in, on which his seconds advised him to drop without receiving a blow, which decided the battle, Mendoza was so severely beaten that he was immediately put to bed with both eyes closed and his face mangled in a shocking manner.

It is almost incredible the number of spectators that were present.... The following were the leading amateurs: Lord Albemarle, Lord Sefton, Count Beaujolaise, Sir Watkin W. Wynn, Sir John Shelley, Sir Edm Nagle, Captain Halliday, Mr. Thornhill, General Keppel, Mr. Buxton, Mr. Fletcher Reid.

The Borzoi.

Of the several breeds of foreign dogs that have been introduced into England, the Borzoi has obtained a considerable amount of popularity. It is, however, not more than fifteen years ago that the breed was first seen in any numbers, and was accorded a separate classification in the Stud Book. He is the most aristocratic in appearance of all the canine race, but, although so gracefully and slenderly built, has a most powerful jaw, and is very muscular, as he needs to be, when he is required on occasions to tackle a wolf single-handed.

The Borzoi is the favourite of Royalty. He is to be found in the Imperial kennels of Russia, and also in those of the Grand Dukes and others of high degree, and among the first seen in this country were a brace that were presented, upwards of thirty years ago, to the Prince of Wales (now King Edward VII.), which hounds were occasionally exhibited on the show bench, and were bred from; but as there is no record of their names appearing in the pedigrees of the present generation of Borzois, they and their produce seem to have been lost sight of. Still, now and again in the years which intervened between that period and the time when the breed became firmly established here, a specimen or two then known as the Siberian or Russian wolfhound appeared in the classes confined to foreign dogs, but these were very indifferent representatives of the breed when compared with the beautiful animals that were afterwards imported by her Grace the Duchess of Newcastle, who at the present time owns the largest and most successful kennel that has probably ever been seen out of Russia, or with Alex, who was presented in 1895 to the Princess of Wales (now Queen Alexandra). A more magnificent animal than the Borzoi Alex has scarcely ever been seen.

With the advent of Alex the breed, which has already been recognised by the Kennel Club, and for which a specialist club had been formed to look after its interests some three years before, quickly took a prominent position amongst our show dogs, and now large classes of Borzois are to be seen at all the principal shows; and Her Majesty was successful in winning a first prize in a group of thirty-two at the Crystal Palace, and also at Birmingham, with a young dog bred at the Royal kennels at Sandringham. That the Borzoi has now become thoroughly nationalised in England is proved by the fact that the whole of the animals shown on these occasions were home-bred. In addition to Her Majesty and her Grace the Duchess of Newcastle, Mrs. Borman, of Billericay, has a large kennel of these dogs, and other prominent breeders of them are Princess Sophia Duleep Singh, Mrs. Kilvert, Mrs. E. A. Huth, of Wadhurst, and Miss Robinson, of Tewkesbury. Mr. H. Murphy, of Padiham, also has a few valuable specimens, and so has Mrs. Aitchison, whose kennels are at Wallsend-on-Tyne.

Although largely used for coursing the wolf in his native land, the Borzoi is only kept as a companion in England. He is useless for coursing the hare, as he is not so fast, nor can he turn so quickly as the greyhound. At work with the wolf, however, the Borzoi has no equal, as he holds on much more tenaciously when he has seized his prey than either greyhound or Scottish deerhound, both of which have been tried in Russia. When wolves are to be coursed, the dogs (generally two or three) are held in slips by a keeper on horseback at the corner of a covert whilst the latter is being drawn by foxhounds. On the wolf breaking covert he is given a start of two hundred yards, when the hounds are slipped, who before they have gone a mile, and sometimes considerably less, are up with their quarry, which they seize on either side by the neck. The wolf is then powerless, and the rider, after dismounting, either muzzles the animal, if it is a large one, or dispatches it with a knife, if it is small and not of any use to be kept for the purpose of practising the young dogs. During the muzzling operation the seasoned dogs keep fast hold of the wolf, but young hounds, when first entered, will sometimes seize the wolf by the back or leg, when they run the chance of being terribly mauled. They, however, soon learn the fact that the only safe place to get hold of is the neck, and that they must not let go their grip till the wolf is muzzled.

An occasional hound can take a wolf single-handed, but it is only the most practised hunters that are allowed to do so. When one dog only is sent in pursuit of the foe, on the latter being caught the two roll over together, but the dog always comes up at the top, and it is quite the exception for the latter to receive any injury. Sometimes, in places where difficulty is expected in finding, bagged wolves are brought into requisition, but the quarry that is disturbed from his native haunts generally shows the best sport. Under any circumstances the pastime is most exhilarating, travelling to the scene of action on the snow at break-neck speed, over hill and dale, and sliding down the sides of miniature mountains on the sledges, the atmosphere so cold that unless the sportsmen are well wrapped up in furs there is a considerable chance of their getting frostbitten.