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Over Gods forbode sayde the Kynge

That thou shold shote at me.

This story is not so picturesque as that of William Tell, for in this instance the life of the boy was risked simply as a piece of bravado on the part of his father, who was certainly a marvellous archer; his hitting the wand at 400 yards being a greater performance than that attributed to Robin Hood, who is reported to have struck a willow twig, no thicker than a thumb, at a fourth of this distance. In fact, Cloudesle's shooting at the wand was of a more wonderful character than at the apple, and he might well have rested content with that, instead of, as would be now said, 'playing for the gallery.'

There are many games and athletic exercises that are practised now, which, although considered modern inventions, were in a different form in use among the ancients. Even lawn tennis, the most fashionable of them all, and the one which more than any other seems to have taken a permanent hold on the people of this country, appears to be merely a variation of a form of ball played by the Romans; one great difference being that with them the ball had always to be returned before it struck the ground-in fact volleyed.' There is no very definite description of it, but it would seem that, although there was no actual net as now, there was practically an imaginary one; and at the present time the Italians play a game called Pallone, that is probably derived from the same source.

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Further, a contest that within the last few years has had a place in the programme of most athletic meetings is even more directly one in which the ancients took part. The 'tug of war' is quite a modern institution, but it is very nearly the same as a Grecian trial of strength, which appears to have been arranged in two ways, in one of which the only difference between it and the present tug of war' is that fewer persons took part in it, and that they stood up instead of partly sitting as they do now. In the other, the rope was passed over an upper branch of a tree, or through a hole in a high post, and the competitors took hold of the rope, with their backs to the tree, and tried to pull up the opposite side.

Of course there is absolutely no means of judging of the relative powers of the ancients and the moderns in games of this description, any more than there is in the case of what used to be called the noble art of self-defence.' That the ancients, especially the Greeks, did box, and that most savagely, we know. So far from using gloves to lessen the damaging effects of their blows, or even from using simply the power that nature and training had given to their bare fists, they increased this by tying strips of hard bull's hide round them when clenched, and sometimes even attached nails and lead buckles to these, to make their blows more deadly. They also

usually, but not always, fought continuously until one of the combatants gave in, 'rounds' apparently not being to their taste. But although there seems to have been this savagery about the contests, it by no means follows that a 'scientific boxer' of the present day would not be able to hold his own in one, if a trial were possible.

One more exercise of the ancient Greek athletæ I will refer to, for while we do not practise it in the form they did, there is some resemblance between it and the game of skittles, which recently has come into fashion again, after being for many years relegated to the 'Good dry skittle ground' which a quarter of a century ago was a frequent legend on the walls of beerhouses, and soon after that date extinguished altogether by an edict of the police. This Grecian pastime, which formed one of the Pentathlon (TEVтáε0λov) at the Olympic Games, was throwing a heavy piece of cast-iron or stone, called a 'diskos' (diokos), which was in shape much like the 'cheese' with which the skittle-pins are knocked down; the object of the Greeks being to propel it in a curve to the greatest possible distance. Nevertheless, although the object to be attained was not the same as the cheese' is now used for, being more akin to the modern exercise of putting the stone,' it is recognised that the origin of skittles is to be found here, and a fashionable social club which has been established principally for the purpose of the practice of this game, has taken the name of Diskos' as its title.

'Diskos' is usually translated as meaning a 'quoit'-Liddell and Scott so rendering it—but this is an error. There is no resemblance whatever to the game of quoits in that of 'throwing the diskos,' neither are the instruments used alike. The statues of the Discobolus (diokoẞóλos), or thrower of the diskos, in the British Museum and the Vatican, and some of which are reproduced at the Crystal Palace, represent the diskos, exactly as described by Lucian, in Anacharsis seu de Gymn., without handle, aperture, or loop, and it is therefore a mistake to name them 'Quoit players,' as is done at the latter place. The object of the thrower was, as before stated, to propel the diskos as far as possible, and the distance to which it was ordinarily sent was called 'Ta Diskoura' (Tà Síoкoupa), and became, according to Dr. W. Smith, a Greek measure of length; but it does not seem to have been a definite one, and Liddell and Scott's rendering of the expression as equivalent to the modern saying of 'a stone's throw' is probably more correct.

To return to the question, Are the athletes of the present superior to those of the past?

It certainly seems to me, from consideration of the various matters referred to, that our modern ones are decided physically stronger and capable of greater exertion, and also that, independently of that, they are able to obtain more result from their exertions than the ancients. This appears only reasonably to be expected. We

have gone forward in everything, despite the parrot-cry of 'Good old times;' and why not in the powers of our athletes? The men of the present day, we know, are larger than they were in bygone years, and therefore they should be more powerful; for it is an acknowledged axiom in sport that, other things being equal, a big one will always beat a little one.'

But that the cause of the great and extraordinary succession of ' record cutting' that has taken place recently, and, as said in the beginning of this article, more especially during last year, is a consequence of a large increase in the physical powers of the present generation, I do not believe. The power has been there before, but it has not been utilised. Of course the increase from that of the ancients to that of the moderns, which I think has taken place, has been gradual; and it may probably be that this increase is still going on, and in the course of time may show some effect. But the real cause of the present state of affairs is to be found, according to my view, when not the result of improved appliances, in the great revival during recent years of the interest taken in athletics, which has caused the schoolboy generation to commence early to develop their powers, and has also brought many healthgiving institutions in its train, such as the daily bath, which had become a thing of the past; to the superior training and instruction an athlete receives; to the extra power which he is able to bring to bear from the accurate knowledge that he has of what has previously been done (and it must not be forgotten that he has, in many cases, an equally accurate knowledge of what he himself is doing at the moment, which has only been possible comparatively recently, since the chronograph has been perfected; and he is thus sometimes able to know that a trifling more exertion on his part, if he can only force it from himself, will give him a 'record'); and last, but by no means least, to the severe competition which exists at the present day— a competition unconfined, as it was not many years ago, to one town, or one district, or even one country, but worldwide in its character, and which brings the ablest exponents in each branch of athletics in contact one with the other, no matter where their home, to the advantage of all.

London Rowing Club.

H. ELLINGTON.

VOL. XXI.--No. 122.

NN

AN ACT FOR THE

SUSPENSION OF PARLIAMENT.

March 3, 1899 (2 A.M.)-Home from the House. Second reading carried by a majority of over 100. Our illustrious leader literally surpassed himself in the speech with which he closed the debate, and when he sat down every one felt that the success of the Bill was assured. Well, the struggle has been a long and obstinate one, and we, the old and faithful supporters of the policy which seems at last within sight of victory, have indeed good reason to rejoice. For years we have laboured in Parliament, on the platform, in the press, to indoctrinate the people with the principles now about to prevail. For months we have borne the brunt of the hottest electoral conflict ever waged in this country, and stemmed manfully the fiercest and foulest tide of obloquy that ever threatened a politician's foothold. And now-now the victory is as good as won. It is beyond a doubt that ere many weeks are past the Quinquennial Bill will have become law. The Quinquennial Bill! Yes, the style and title of the measure will rather puzzle the future student of English history when he first meets with it in connection with the furious strife which it has aroused. I can imagine it bothering the New Zealander not a little. That is, of course, supposing him to have already met in his historical studies with the Triennial Act and the Septennial Act, and to have noted that the promotion and passing of both those statutes, though attended with a certain amount of political controversy, produced nothing like the convulsion with which the country has been rent in the fight over this Bill. He will no doubt wonder how it came about that, though the duration of Parliaments could be limited to three and again extended to seven years without very profoundly agitating the country, the proposal, as he will at first assume it to be, to fix that period at five years had so disturbing an effect. But when that New Zealander has been informed by his coach' that the Quinquennial Act takes its name not from the periods for which Parliaments are to exist but from the intervals at which they are to assemble, our inquiring young Australasian will perhaps begin to get a glimmering of the truth. If in point of intelligence he be a fairly typical specimen of the highly developed race, as no doubt it will then be, to which he belongs, he will at once perceive that the difference

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in political significance between these two meanings of the word Quinquennial as applied to a Bill of this kind is no unimportant one. It is to be hoped that his tutor will succeed in conveying to him a fairly correct notion-completely adequate it cannot be―of the events which have led to this new departure, as I suppose we must call it, in English political history.

March 31.-As I anticipated, the Bill is going through Committee with perfect ease. The neck of the opposition to it seems broken; and the Old Radicals, who curiously enough are now the only genuine upholders of the present system, are fighting without any heart. We expect the Report stage of the Bill by the end of next week at latest.

April 15.-Third reading agreed to last night without a division, the Opposition being too dispirited to challenge the Speaker's declaration that the Ayes had it. What a collapse! And what a victory! Now that its full accomplishment is so near, I begin, as a good citizen should, to feel a tremor or two of doubt. Is it for the best? But why ask that question of the inevitable? If ever in the world's history any measure has demonstrated its own necessity, it is this.

April 16.-Bill read a first time in the Lords, and second reading fixed for the 1st of May. No one can say that the nation has acted precipitately. It is just ten years ago to-day that the Royal assent was given to the Bill for the disfranchisement of Ireland, and it will be eight years on Monday next since we passed the Act which enables us to readmit Irish representatives by sessional resolution of the House-a compromise worthy, as we all agreed at the time, of the best traditions of English statesmanship. That resolution— except of course for the two sessions of the Imperial Parliament six and five years ago, during which the brief and disastrous experiment of Home Rule was being tried in Dublin-has been regularly renewed. Ever since the Battle of Trim and the rout of the Nationalist army and party in Ireland, we have readmitted Irish representatives to the House under this sessional order almost as a matter of course. In common justice, in fact, it had to be done. Over two years of relief from the presence of the Irish proved to demonstration that palaver in Parliament has no special nationality. The vacuum created by the expulsion of the Irish members did not remain a vacuum for twenty-four hours. English, Scotch, and Welsh garrulity poured into it as water would pour in through a hole in a diving-bell. Since then, what experiment has not been tried to check chatter and promote work? First there was the fifteen minutes rule.' Ah! how well I remember the high expectations with which we added that to the standing orders, and the douche of cold water that poor old Tommy Noddings threw over our ardour. What do you think will be the average length of debates, now, Tommy?' one of us asked him. Fifteen minutes a speech,' growled the dear old boy; that's four speeches an hour.

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