A handsome quintain still stands on Offham village

A handsome quintain still stands on Offham village green, in Kent,
although it is no longer used for the skilful practice of former
days. It is the custom to hoist married men, who are not blest with
children, on the quintain, which is made to revolve rapidly.
Sometimes discontented and disobedient wives share the same fate.
Chester was famous for its Easter sports, when the mayor with his
mace, the corporation with twenty guilds, marched to the Rood-eye,
to play at football. But “inasmuch as great strife did arise among
the young persons of the same city” on account of the game, a
change was made in the reign of Henry VIII., and foot-races and
horse-races were substituted for the time-honoured football, and an
arrow All My Good Hockey Cards Clip of silver was given to the best archer.
But Easter sports are almost finished: however, we have not long to
wait for another popular anniversary; for the famous Hock-tide
sports always took place a fortnight after Easter, and much
amusement, and profit also, were derived from the quaint observances
of Hock Monday and Tuesday. The meaning of the word and the origin
of the custom have been the subjects of much conjecture; but the
festival is supposed to be held in remembrance of the victory of our
Saxon forefathers over the Danes in the time of Ethelred. The custom
was that on Hock Monday the men should go out into the streets and
roads with cords, and stop and bind all the women they met,
releasing them on payment of a small ransom. On the following day
the women bound the men, and the proceeds were devoted to charitable
purposes. It is to be noted that the women always extracted the most
money, and in the old churchwardens accounts we find frequent
records of this strange method of collecting subscriptions–_e.g._,
St. Lawrences, Reading, A.D. 1499:–”Item, received of Hoc money
gaderyd” (gathered) “of women xx_s_. Item, received of Hoc money
gaderyd of men iiij_s_.” We also find that the women had a supper
given to them as a reward for their exertions, for there is the
“item for wives supper at Hock-tide xxiij_d_.”
The observance of Hock-tide seems to have been particularly popular
in the ancient town of Reading. At Coventry there was an “old
Coventry Play of Hock Tuesday,” which was performed with great
delight before Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth: the players divided
themselves into two companies to represent the Saxons and the Danes:
a great battle ensued, and by the help of the Saxon women the former
were victorious, and led the Danes captive. The queen laughed much
at the pageant, and gave the performers two bucks and five marks in
money.
So ends the month of sunshine and of shower; but the rustic youths
are making ready for the morris-dance, and the merry milk-maids are
preparing their ribbons to adorn themselves for the revels of May
Day. The May-pole is being erected on the village green, and all is
in readiness for the rejoicings of to-morrow.
CHAPTER V.
MAY.
“Colin met Sylvia on the green
Once on the charming first of May,
And shepherds neer tell false, I ween,
Yet twas by chance, the shepherds say.
“Colin he bowd and blushd, then said,
Will you, sweet maid, this first of May,
Begin the dance by Colin led,
To make this quite his holiday?
“Sylvia replied, I neer from home
Yet venturd, till this first of May;
It is not fit for maids to roam,
And make a shepherds holiday.
“It is most fit, replied the youth,
That Sylvia should this first of May
By me be taught that love and truth
Can make of life a holiday.”–LADY CRAVEN.

Davis MacNider Dibble de Saulles Moffat

Davis MacNider Dibble
de Saulles
Moffat Cadwalader Edwards Walton Wentz Geer Rotter
WE BEAT ANDOVER]
This wonderful start of the Lawrenceville team was a goading spur to its
opponents. Johnnie Barnes, an ex-Lawrenceville boy, now quarterback on
the Andover team, seemed fairly inspired as he urged his team on. Eddie
Holt was called upon time and again. He was making strong advances,
aided by French, Hine and Porter. Together they worked out a touchdown.
But Lawrenceville rallied and for the rest of the game their teamwork
was masterly. Bat Geer, who was later a Princeton Varsity player,
Charlie de Saulles and Billy Dibble, each scored touchdowns, making
three altogether for their school.
Thus Lawrenceville, with the score 20 to 6, stepped forth into a new era
and entered the larger football world where she was to remain and
Japanese Baseball increase her heroic accomplishments in after years.
It is needless to say that the night following this victory was a
crowning one in our preparatory football experiences. Bonfires were
lighted, speeches were the order of the hour, and members of the team
were the guests of honor at a banquet in the Upper House. There was no
rowdy “revelry by night” to spoil the memory of the occasion. It was
just one simple, fine and fitting celebration of a wholesome school
victory on the field of football.
LAST YEAR AT LAWRENCEVILLE
It was up to Billy Dibble, the new captain, to bring about another
championship. We were to play Andover a return game there. Captain
Dibble was left with but three of last years team as a foundation to
build on. Dibbles team made a wonderful record. He was a splendid
example for the team to follow, and his playing, his enthusiasm, and
earnest efforts contributed much toward the winning of the Andover,
Princeton freshmen and Hill School games. There appeared at
Lawrenceville a new coach who assisted Street and George. He was none
other than the famous Princeton halfback, Douglas Ward, whose record as
an honored man in the classroom as well as on the football field was
well known to all of us, and had stood out among college athletes as a
wonderful example. He was very modest. I recall that some one once asked
him how he made the only touchdown against Yale in the 93 game. His
reply was: “Oh, somebody just pushed me over.”
Fresh in my memory is the wonderful trip that we boys made to Andover.
We were proud of the fact that the Colonial Express was especially
ordered to stop at Trenton for us, and as we took our seats in the
Pullman car, we realized that our long looked for expedition had really
begun.
We had a great deal of fun on the trip to Boston. Good old George
Cadwalader was the center of most of the jokes. His 215 pounds added to
the discomfort of a pair of pointed patent leather shoes, which were far
too small for him. As soon as he was settled in the train he removed
them and dozed off to sleep. Turk Righter and some of the other fun
makers tied the shoe strings together, and hung them out of the window
where they blew noisily against the window pane.

When the door had closed upon the three

When the door had closed upon the three, Sydney placed his crutches
under his arms and moved over to the chair beside the couch.
“Look here, Neil, you dont really think, do you, that youll have any
trouble getting back into your place?”
“I hardly know. Of course two weeks of idleness makes a big difference.
And besides, Im losing a lot of practise. This new close-formation that
Mills is teaching will be Greek to me.”
“Its simple enough,” said Sydney. “The backs are bunched right up to
the line, the halfs on each side of quarter, and the full just
behind him.”
“Well, but I dont Us Sport Clocks. see–”
“Wait,” interrupted Sydney, “Ill show you.”
He drew a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to the
other. Neil scowled over it a moment, and then looked up helplessly.
[Illustration]
“What is it?” he asked. “Something weird in geometry?”
“No,” laughed Sydney, “its a play from close-formation. I drew it this
morning.”
“Oh,” said Neil. “Lets see; what–Here, explain it; where do I come
in?”
“Why, your position is at the left of quarter, behind the center-guard,
and a little farther back. Full stands directly behind quarter. See?”
“Pshaw! if we get into a crowd like that,” said Neil, “well get all
tied up.”
“No you wont; not the way Mills and Devoe are teaching it. You see, the
idea is to knife the backs through; there isnt any plunging to speak of
and not much hurdling. The forwards open up a hole, and almost before
the balls well in play one of the backs is squirming through. Quarter
gives you the ball at a hand-pass, always; theres no long passing done;
except, of course, for a kick. Being right up to the line when play
begins it only takes you a fraction of a second to hit it; and then, if
the holes there youre through before the other side has opened their
eyes. Of course, it all depends on speed and the ability of the line-men
to make holes. Youve got to be on your toes, and youve got to get off
them like a streak of lightning.”
“Well, maybe its all right,” said Neil doubtfully, “but it looks like
a mix-up. Who gets the ball in this play here?”
“Right half. Left half plunges through between left-guard and center to
make a diversion. Full-back goes through between left tackle and end
ahead of right half, who carries the ball. Quarter follows. Of course
the play can be made around end instead. What do you think of it?”
“All right; but–I think Id ought to have the ball.”
“You would when the play went to the right,” laughed Sydney. “The fact
is, I–this particular play hasnt been used. I sort of got it up
myself. I dont know whether it would be any good. I sometimes try my
hand at inventing plays, just for fun, you know.”
“Really?” exclaimed Neil. “Well, you are smart. I could no more draw all
those nice little cakes and pies and things than I could fly. And it–it
looks plausible, I think. But Im no authority on this sort of thing.
Are you going to show it to Devoe?”
“Oh, no; I dare say its no use. It may be as old as the hills; I
suppose it is. Its hard to find anything new nowadays in
football plays.”
“But you dont know,” said Neil. “Maybe its a good thing. Ill tell
you, Syd, you let me have this, and Ill show it to Mills.”
“Oh, Id rather not,” protested Sydney, reddening. “Of course it
doesnt amount to anything; I dare say hes thought of it long ago.”
“But maybe he hasnt,” Neil persuaded. “Come, let me show it to him,
like a good chap.”
“Well–But couldnt you let him think you did it?”
“No; Id be up a tree if he asked me to explain it. But dont you be
afraid of Mills; hes a fine chap. Come and see me to-morrow night,
will you?”
Sydney agreed, and, arising, swung himself across the study to where his
coat and cap lay.
“By the way,” he asked, “wheres Paul to-night?”
“Hes calling on Cowan,” answered Neil.

Neils and Pauls college life began early the next

Neils and Pauls college life began early the next morning when,
sitting side by side in the dim, hushed chapel, they heard white-haired
Dr. Garrison ask for them divine aid and guidance. Splashes and flecks
of purple and rose and golden light rested here and there on bowed head
and shoulders or lay in shafts across the aisles. From where he sat Neil
could look through an open window out into the morning world of greenery
and sunlight. On the swaying branch of an elm that almost brushed the
casement a thrush sang sweet and clear a matin of his own. Neil made
several good resolutions that morning there in the chapel, some of which
he profited by, all of which he sincerely meant. And even Paul, far less
impressionable than his friend, looked uncommonly thoughtful all the way
back to their room, a way that led through the Canucks Vs. Avalanche (11) – 4/1/08 – Vancouver Offense Clip elm-arched nave of
College Place and across the common with its broad expanses of
sun-flecked sward and its simple granite shaft commemorating the heroes
of the civil war.
At nine oclock, with the sound of the pealing bell again in their ears,
with their books under their arms and their hearts beating a little
faster than usual with pleasurable excitement, they retraced their path
and mounted the well-worn granite steps of College Hall for their first
recitation. What with the novelty of it all the day passed quickly
enough, and four oclock found the two lads dressed in football togs and
awaiting the beginning of practise.
There were some sixty candidates in sight, boys–some of them men as far
as years go–of all sizes and ages, several at the first glance
revealing the hopelessness of their ambitions. The names were taken and
fall practise at Erskine began.
The candidates were placed on opposite sides of the gridiron, and half a
dozen footballs were produced. Punting and catching punts was the order
of the day, and Neil was soon busily at work. The afternoon was warm,
but not uncomfortably so, the turf was springy underfoot, the sky was
blue from edge to edge, the new men supplied plenty of amusement in
their efforts, the pigskins bumped into his arms in the manner of old
friends, and Neil was happy as a lark. After one catch for which he had
to run back several yards, he let himself out and booted the leather
with every ounce of strength. The ball sailed high in a long arching
flight, and sent several men across the field scampering back into the
grand stand for it.
“I guess youve done that before,” said a voice beside him. A short,
stockily-built youth with a round, smiling face and blue eyes that
twinkled with fun and good spirits was observing him shrewdly.
“Yes,” answered Neil, “I have.”
“I thought so,” was the reply. “But youre a freshman, arent you?”
“Yes,” answered Neil, turning to let a low drive from across the
gridiron settle into his arms. “And I guess youre not.”
“No, this is my third year. Ive been on the team two.” He paused to
send a ball back, and then wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I
was quarter last year.”
“Oh,” said Neil, observing his neighbor with interest, “then youre
Foster?”
“Thats me. What are you trying for?”
“Half-back. I played three years at Hillton.”
“Of course; youre the fellow Bob Devoe was talking about–or one of
them; I think he said there were two of you. Which one are you?”
“Im the other one,” laughed Neil. “Im Fletcher. Thats Gale over
there, the fellow in the old red shirt; he was our captain at Hillton
last year.”

Neil sat down amid a veritable roar of applause

Neil sat down amid a veritable roar of applause, and Paul, totally
unembarrassed by the praise and acclaim, smiled with satisfaction. “That
was all right, chum,” he whispered. “I guess weve got them on the
run, eh?”
But Neil shook his head doubtfully. Cries of “Vote! Vote!” arose, and in
a moment or two the balloting began. While this was proceeding
announcement was made that the annual Freshman Class Dinner would be
held on the evening of the following Monday, October 7th. When the
cheers occasioned by this information had subsided the chairman arose.
“The result of the balloting, gentlemen,” he announced, “is as follows:
Livingston, 97; Gale, 45. Mr. Livingston is elected by a majority
of 52.”
Shouts of “Livingston! Livingston! Speech! Speech!” filled the air, and
were not stilled until some one arose and announced that the
president-elect was not in the hall. Paul, after a glance of
bewilderment at Neil, had sat silent in his chair with something between
a sneer and a scowl on his face. Now he jumped up.
“Come on; lets get out of here,” he muttered. “They act like a lot of
idiots.” Neil followed, and they found themselves in a pushing throng at
the door. The chairman was vainly clamoring for some one to put a motion
to adjourn, but none heeded him. The crowd pushed and shoved, but made
no progress.
“Open that door,” cried Paul.
“Try it yourself,” answered a voice up front. “Its locked!”
A murmur arose that quickly gave place to cries of wrath and
indignation. “The sophs did it!” “Where are they?” “Break the door
down!” Those at the rear heaved and pushed.
“Stop shoving, back there!” yelled those in front. “Youre squashing us
flat.”
“Everybody away from the door!” shouted Neil. “Lets see if we cant get
it open.” The fellows finally fell back to some extent, and Neil, Paul,
and some of the others examined the lock. The key was still there, but,
unfortunately, on the outside. Breaking the door down was utterly out of
the question, since it was of solid oak and several inches thick. The
self-appointed committee shook its several heads.
“Well have to yell for the janitor,” said Neil. “Where does he hang
out?”
But none knew. Neil went to one of the three windows and raised it.
Instantly a chorus of derision floated up from below. Gathered almost
under the windows was a throng of sophomores, their upturned faces just
visible in the darkness.
“O Fresh! O Fresh!” “Want to come down?” “Why dont you jump?” These
gibes were followed by cheers for “04″ and loud groans. Neil turned and
faced his angry classmates.
“Look here, fellows,” he said, “we dont want to have to yell for the
janitor with those sophs there; thats too babyish. The keys in the
outside of the lock. I think I can get down all right by the ivy, and
Ill unlock the door if those sophs will let me. If two or three of you
will follow I guess we can do it all right.”
“Bully for you!” “Plucky boy!” cried the audience. But Jarome Iginla Garbage Bag Day for a moment none
came forward to share the risk. Then Paul pushed his way to the window.
“Here, Ill go with you, chum,” he said, with a suggestion of swagger.
“We can manage those dubs down there alone. The rest of you can sit down
and tell stories; well let you out in a minute,” he added scathingly.
“Thats Gale,” whispered some one. “Fresh kid!”, added another angrily.
But the gibe had the desired effect. Four other freshmen signified their
willingness to die for their class, and Neil climbed on to the broad
window-sill. His reappearance was the signal for another outburst from
the watching sophomores.
“Dont jump, sonny; you may hurt yourself.” “Hes going to fly, fellows!
Good little Freshies got wings!” “Say, well let you out in the
morning! Good-night!”

Besides the harvesthome there was also observed

Besides the harvest-home there was also observed another feast of a
similar character in the spring, when the sheep were shorn. A
plentiful dinner was given by the farmer to the shearers and their
friends, and a table was often set in the open village for the young
people and children. Tusser, who wrote a book upon _Five Hundred
Points of Husbandry_, did not forget the treats which ought to be
given to the labourers, and alludes to the sheep-shearing festival
in the following lines–
“Wife, make us a dinner; spare flesh, neither corn,
Make wafers and cakes, for our sheep must be shorn;
At sheep-shearing, neighbours none other things crave,
But good cheer and welcome like neighbours to have.”
We have in many villages and towns a feast called “the Wakes,” which
is one of the oldest of our English festivals. The day of “the
Wakes” is the festival of the Saint to whom the parish church is
dedicated, and it is so called because, on the previous night, or
vigil, the people used to watch, or “wake,” in the church till the
morning dawned. It was the custom for the inhabitants of the parish
to keep open house Sport Clocks on that day, and to entertain all their relations
and friends who came to them from a distance. In early times the
people used to make booths and tents with the boughs of trees near
to the church, and were directed to celebrate the feast in them with
thanksgiving and prayer. By degrees they began to forget their
prayers, and remembered only the feasting, and other abuses crept
in, so at last the “waking” on the eve of the festival was
suppressed. But these primitive feasts were the origin of most of
our fairs, which are generally held on the dedication festival of
the parish church.[13] The neighbours from the adjoining villages
used to attend the wakes, so the peddlers and hawkers came to find a
market for their wares. Their stalls began to multiply, until at
last an immense fair sprang into existence, which owed its origin
entirely to the religious festival of “the wakes.” Fairs have
degenerated like many other good things, and we can hardly realize
their vastness in the middle ages. The circuit of a fair sometimes
was very great, and it would have been impossible in those days to
carry on the trade of the country without them. The great
Stourbridge Fair, near Cambridge, I have described in my former book
on _English Villages_. The booths were planted in a cornfield, and
the circuit of the fair, which was one of the largest in Europe, was
over three miles. All kinds of sports were held on these occasions:
plays, comedies, tragedies, bull-baiting, &c., and King James was
very wroth with the undergraduates of Cambridge who would insist
upon frequenting Stourbridge Fair rather than attend to their
studies.
The “Wakes,” or village feast, was a great day for all sports and
pastimes. A writer in the _Spectator_ describes the “country wake”
which he witnessed at Bath. The green was covered with a crowd of
all ages and both sexes, decked out in holiday attire, and divided
into several parties, “all of them endeavouring to show themselves
in those exercises wherein they excelled.” In one place there was a
ring of cudgel-players, in another a football match, in another a
ring of wrestlers. The prize for the men was a hat, and for the
women, who had their own contests, a smock. Running and leaping also
found a place in the programme. In Berkshire back-sword play and
wrestling were the favourite amusements for vigorous youths, and men
strove hard to win the honour of being champion and the prizes which
were offered on the occasion. There were “cheap jacks,” and endless
booths containing all kinds of fairings, ribands, gingerbread cakes,
and shows, with huge pictures hung outside of giants and wild
Indians, pink-eyed ladies, live lions, and deformities of all kinds.
There were minor sports, such as climbing the pole, jumping in
sacks, rolling wheelbarrows blindfolded, donkey races, muzzling in a
flour-tub, &c.; but the back-sword play was the chief and most
serious part of the programme.

If that great event which was run off at the Marlboro

If that great event which was run off at the Marlboro Fair and Cattle
Show could be witnessed to-day, thousands of admirers would love to see
in action those trainers, see them as the Natick Hose truck defeated
the Westboro team that day, and sent the Westboro contingent home with
shattered hopes and empty pocketbooks.
“In connection with Army-Navy games,” writes Crolius of Dartmouth, “Ill
never forget Mike Murphys wonderful ability to read mens condition by
their mental Re: Teemu Selanne And Henrik Zetterberg Are Horny attitude. He was nearly infallible in his diagnosis.”
Once we questioned Mike. He said, “Go get last years money back, youre
going to lick them!” And true to his uncanny understanding he was right.
Was it any wonder that men gave Murphy the credit due him?
Mike Murphy had a strong influence over the players. He was their
ever-present friend. He could talk to a man, and his personality could
reach farther than any of the coaches. The teams that Murphy talked to
between the halves, both at Yale and Pennsylvania, were always inspired.
Mike Murphy always gave a man something of himself.
It is interesting to read what a fellow trainer, Keene Fitzpatrick, has
to say of Mike:
“Mike first started to train at Yale. Then he went to the Detroit
Athletic Club in Detroit; then he came back to Yale; then he went to the
University of Pennsylvania; then back to Yale again, and finally back to
the University of Penn, where he died.
“We were always great friends and got together every summer; we used to
go up to a little country town, Westboro, on a farm; had a little room
in a farmhouse outside of the town of Natick, and there we used to get
together every year (Mike and Fitz) and share our opinions, and compare
and give each other the benefit of our discoveries of the seasons work.
“Murphy was one of the greatest sprinters this world ever had. They
called him stucky because he had so much grit and determination. The
year after Mike died the Intercollegiate was held at Cambridge. All the
trainers got together and a lot of flowers were sent out to Mikes grave
in Hopkinton, Massachusetts.”