Single-handed Beaver.
It is not generally known that a rigidly conscientious person can play single-handed Beaver with great content. One scores Beavers walking in the same direction as oneself to the server, Beavers coming from that direction, and so passing the player, to the striker and stationary Beavers in accordance with the direction in which their heads are turned, towards or away from the player. Beavers debouching suddenly from cross-roads, if one has not time, as on a swift omnibus, to observe their ultimate direction, are “no-balls.”
Objections to the Game.
It has been objected that the game is nonsensical, anti-social and essentially discourteous. Nonsensical it is, an it please you; but is not nonsense a rare and a precious thing? Is not the nonsense of Lewis Carroll quite entirely adorable? Is not Lear’s story of Violet, Slingsby, Guy and Lionel a thing of impressive beauty? The game is not anti-social, for it entails an increased interest in and admiration of one’s fellow-men and, as regards discourtesy, surely it is as much a compliment to a Red-King to cry on him, “Beaver, game, set, match,” as it is to comment upon some damsel’s handsome eyes.
The Beaver.
“Aristotle in his ethics takes up the conceit of the Bever,”[7] and, in general, one may assume that the bearded are proud of their adornments, love them, cherish them, even going so far in some cases as to enclose them in silken bags before retiring to rest. Controversy has long raged as to the propriety or otherwise of shaving. The Greek Church held strong views on the point, “... and also they say, that we sin deadly in shaving our beards, for the beard is token of a man, and gift of our Lord.”[8] The antient Greeks, as we have observed, for long clutched their hairiness, but finally succumbed to the Macedonian mode, and shaved clean; it is an interesting point that they did utterly abhor the Walrus. In England the matter has been entirely regulated by fashion, and I cannot trace the existence of any important body of opinion in favour of or against the practice of shaving. It would, nevertheless, be safe to say that an immature Beaver in the present year of grace is so rare as to be practically unknown—English specimens are seldom lighter than medium-brindle—which shows the trend of modern thought.
It may be accepted, then, that the Beaver indulges in efflorescence in order to gratify his vanity (or in a few cases, perhaps, to keep his throat warm and save the expense of cravats). Perhaps he remembers the dictum, “l’habit long et la barbe imposent de respect.”[9] In which connection it may be emphasised that the intense interest now taken in fine specimens should be (and probably is) a source of considerable gratification to them. I have even been told of one superb Red-King who invariably congratulates the fortunate player who scores him.
[7] Browne. Pseudodoxia, I., c. ix. [8] Mandeville, c. iii. [9] Voltaire, Dict. Phil.