Mr. Punch's Book of Sport<br />The Humour of Cricket, Football, Tennis, Polo, Croquet, Hockey, Racin by J. A. Hammerton and Linley Sambourne (ready to read books .TXT) 📖
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Unheeding chewed and grazed.
And Amy's prowess with the ball
Reminds me that her style
Was not so taking after all
As Fanny's skill plus smile.
Yes! Fanny had a winsome laugh,
That round her mouth would wreath,
And make me wonder if her chaff
Was shaped to show her teeth.
They were so pretty, just like pearls
Set fast in carmine case;
Still in the match between the girls
[Pg 80]Selina won the race.
Selina had such lustrous eyes
Of real sapphire blue,
They seemed one's soul to mesmerise,
And looked one through and through.
Yet Agnes I cannot forget,
She brought me joy with pain.
I would that we had never met——
"Your stroke!" That voice! My Jane!
[Pg 79]
Bowler. "How's that?" Umpire. "Wasn't looking. But if 'e does it again, 'e's out!"
CROQUETO feeblest game, how strange if you should rise
To favour, vice tennis superseded!
And yet beneath such glowing summer skies
When wildest energy is invalided,
Mere hitting balls through little hoops
Seems work enough. One merely stoops,
And lounges round; no other toil is needed.
Upon a breezy lawn beneath the shade
Of rustling trees that hide the sky so sunny,
I'll play, no steady game as would be played
By solemn, earnest folks as though for money—
For love is better. Simply stoop,
And hit the ball. It's through the hoop!
My partner smiles; she seems to think it funny.
My pretty partner, whose bright, laughing eyes
Gaze at me while I aim another blow; lo,
I've missed because I looked at her! With sighs
I murmur an apologetic solo.
The proudest athlete here might stoop,
To hit a ball just through a hoop,
And say the game—with her—beats golf and polo.
[Pg 81]
CRICKET—THE PRIDE OF THE VILLAGE
"Good match, old fellow?"
"Oh, yes; awfully jolly!"
"What did you do?"
"I 'ad a hover of Jackson; the first ball 'it me on the 'and, the second 'ad me on the knee; the third was in my eye; and the fourth bowled me out!"
[Jolly game.
[Pg 82]
ADVICE TO YOUNG CROQUET-PLAYERS
1. Always take your own mallet to a garden party. This will impress everyone with the idea that you are a fine player. Or an alternative plan is to play with one provided by your host, and then throughout the game to attribute every bad stroke to the fact that you have not your own implement with you.
2. Use as many technical terms as you can, eking them out with a few borrowed from golf. Thus it will always impress your partner if you say that you are "stimied," especially as she won't know what it means. But a carefully-nurtured reputation may be[Pg 84] destroyed at once if you confuse "roquet" with "croquet," so be very careful that you get these words right.
3. Aim for at least three minutes before striking the ball, and appear overcome with amazement when you miss. If you have done so many times in succession, it may be well to remark on the unevenness of the ground. If you hit a ball by mistake always pretend that you aimed at it.
4. It is a great point to give your partner advice in a loud and authoritative tone—it doesn't matter in the least whether it is feasible or not. Something like the following, said very quickly, always sounds well:—"Hit one red, take two off him and make your hoop; send two red towards me and get into position." In a game of croquet there is always one on each side who gives advice, and one who receives (and disregards) it. All the lookers-on naturally regard the former as the finer player, therefore begin giving advice on your partner's first stroke. If she happens to be a good player this may annoy her, but that is no consequence.
5. Remember that "a mallet's length from the[Pg 85] boundary" varies considerably. If you play next, it means three yards, if your opponent does so, it means three inches. So, too, with the other "rules," which no one really knows. When in an awkward position, the best course is to invent a new rule on the spur of the moment, and to allege (which will be perfectly true) that "it has just been introduced."
6. Much may be done by giving your ball a[Pg 86] gentle kick when the backs of the other players happen to be turned. Many an apparently hopeless game has been saved by this method. Leave your conscience behind when you come to a croquet-party.
GENUINE ENTHUSIASM
Sweet Name for Young Ladies playing Croquet.—Hammerdryads.
The Poet of Croquet.—Mallet.
[Pg 83]
LAWN-TENNIS COSTUME
(Designed by Mr. Punch.)
[Pg 87]
"NOUVELLES COUCHES SOCIALES!"
"I say, uncle, that was young Baldock that went by,—Wilmington Baldock, you know——!"
"Who the dickens is he?"
"What! haven't you heard of him? Hang it! he's making himself a very first-rate position in the lawn-tennis world, I can tell you!"
[Pg 88]
"Sporting."—Cabby (on the rank at the top of our square.) "Beg your pardon, miss!—'takin' the liberty—but—'ow does the game stand now, miss? 'Cause me and this 'ere 'ansom's gota dollar on it!"
[Pg 89]
HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE
Auntie. "Archie, run up to the house, and fetch my racket. There's a dear!"
Archie (preparing to depart). "All right. But I say, auntie, don't let anybody take my seat, will you?"
[Pg 90]
Barbarous Technicalities of Lawn-Tennis.
Woolwich Cadet (suddenly, to his poor grandmother, who has had army on the brain ever since he passed his exam.). "The service is awfully severe, by Jove! Look at Colonel Pendragon—he invariably shoots or hangs!" His Poor Grandmother. "Good Heavens, Algy! I hope you won't be in his regiment!"
[Pg 91]
COMFORTING
Proud Mother. "Did you ever see anybody so light and slender as dear Algernon, Jack?"
Uncle Jack (at thirty-five). "Oh, you mustn't trouble about that, Maria. I was exactly his build at eighteen!"
[Pg 92]
"Donkeys have Ears."
Emily (playing at lawn-tennis with the new curate). "What's the game, now, Mr. Miniver?" Curate. "Forty—Love." Irreverent Gardener (overhearing). "Did y'ever hear such imperence! 'Love,' indeed! And him not been in the parish above a week! Just like them parsons!"
[Pg 93]
LAWN-TENNIS UNDER DIFFICULTIES—"PLAY!"
If space is limited, there is no reason why one shouldn't play with one's next-door neighbours, over the garden wall. (One needn't visit them, you know!)
[Pg 94]
Stout Gentleman (whose play had been conspicuously bad). "I'm such a wretched feeder, you see, Mrs. Klipper—a wretched feeder! Always was!"
Mrs. Klipper (who doesn't understand lawn-tennis). "Indeed! Well, I should never have thought it!"
[Pg 95]
She. "What a fine looking man Mr. O'Brien is!"
He. "H'm—hah—rather rough-hewn, I think. Can't say I admire that loud-laughing, strong-voiced, robust kind of man. Now that's a fine-looking woman he's talking to!"
She. "Well—er—somewhat effeminate, you know. Confess I don't admire effeminate women!"
[Pg 96]
LAWN-TENNIS LOBS(Served by Dumb-Crambo Junior.)
GENTLEMEN'S DOUBLES
SMART SERVICE
LADIES SINGLES
BACK PLAY
A SPLENDID RALLY
SMOTHERING THE BAWL
[Pg 97]
DEUCE!
TWO SETS TO ONE
PLAYING UP TO THE NET
LOVE GAME
"THE SPORT OF THE FUTURE"["The lawns that were erstwhile cumbered with tennis nets now bristle with croquet hoops, and the sedate mallet has driven out the frisky racquet."—The World.]
Welcome, Reason, on the scene,
Milder influences reviving!
Far too long have pastimes been
[Pg 98]Senseless, useless, arduous striving,
Brutalising men of strength,
Dangerous to those who lack it:
Lo! it speaks their doom at length—
The decadence of the racket.
Purged from customs fierce and rude
Soon shall sports become more gentle,
(As the grosser kinds of food
Yield the palm to bean and lentil),
Roller skates long since are "off,"
Tennis is no longer O.K.,
Rivals threaten even golf
As the fashion sets for croquet.
Hence, then, cricket, young and vain,
Football, fraught with brutal bustle,
You at Reason's light shall wane—
Modern upstart cult of muscle;
So may purer tastes begin
All our fiercer games refining,
Till, when spelicans come in,
I may get a chance of shining.
LINE BALL
OUT OF COURT
[Pg 99]
MORE LAWN TENNIS LOBS(Served by Dumb-Crambo Junior.)
A LET
'VAUNT-AGE
SERVING CAUGHT
SCREW AND TWISTER
THE "WRENCHER (RENSHAW) SMASH"
SMART RETURNS.
[Pg 100]
Golden Memories.—"I wonder why Mr. Poppstein serves with three balls?" "Old associations, I suppose."
[Pg 101]
Smith. "Let me put your name down for this tournament?"
Jones (who thinks himself another Renshaw, and doesn't care to play with a scratch lot). "A—thanks—no! I'd rather not!"
Smith. "Oh, they're frightful duffers, all of them! You'll stand a very fair chance! Do!"
[Pg 102]
Professional Jealousy.—Miss Matilda (referring to her new lawn tennis shoes, black, with india-rubber soles). "The worst of it is, they draw the feet so!" Our Artist (an ingenuous and captivating youth). "Ah, they may draw the feet; but they'll never do justice to yours, Miss Matilda!"
[Sighs deeply.
[Pg 103]
TRIALS OF THE UMPIRE AT A LADIES' DOUBLE
Lilian and Claribel. "It was out, wasn't it, Captain Standish?"
Adeline and Eleanore. "Oh, it
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