Personalia.
We have now examined the game briefly, investigated the characteristics of the Beaver family, cast a rapid and perfunctory glance at the Beaver in History (a subject deserving of a tome), and suggested explanations that may be offered, a defence that may be attempted, when a player is assailed by a non-player. “To beaver or not to beaver, that is the question.” The decision must be taken; paltering is no part of a man. Myself, I took it on the top of an omnibus outside the Ritz, and I played a most excellent game with myself as far as St. Mary Abbott’s.
Having set my hand to the plough I did not look back, but entered upon the game in all seriousness. When Fortune appeared I did not give her a chance to “present her bald noddle,” but I grabbed her firmly by the forelock. Being from town I chanced upon a small coterie of learned enthusiasts, and much improved my game, as also my knowledge. The city was a very warren of Beavers; most of my finest specimens were secured there. Does not the mouth of every collector water on reading that I scored—with two witnesses, one of whom viséd the prey—a glorious Pink-Queen, leaning on a green bicycle outside the Post-Office? and, subsequently, an American Grey-Queen with young? The only rarity, roughly speaking, which eluded me was a fine Fringed-Georgic. I scored a somewhat moth-eaten specimen of uncertain colouration. Thus, “on stepping-stones of our dead” Beavers I attained to a certain skill. It would have been impossible to choose a better place for my little holiday, and my gratitude to my genial instructors and coaches knows no bounds.
Local rules were well-framed, simple and reasonable. There are two “local D. F.s,” easily recognisable, and a certain number of markedly fine specimens which have great repute in the district and bear a very high scoring-value. All unknowing I claimed and scored the Ecclesiastical-King and was, instantly, awarded two games. It was, in very truth, a noble creature, a Pointed-Brindle, which is, of course, as rare and valuable as a pointed fox, in gorgeous coat and official robes of a searching scarlet. I had the good fortune to secure also the finest King in Full Winter-Coat that I have ever seen. The adornment was almost incredibly bushy and “white as the neck of Lalage,” while the specimen wore brown suéde shoes. Heigh ho! for the brave days that are dead. Golly, what a garland I wove me in that dear place.