Now these are the laws of the athlete,
That stretch the length of the field,
They make the code of the runner fleet
Who has never yet learned to yield.
They tell you how to lay your plan,
And how to carry it through.
They help the man, who's done what he can,
To bear his Waterloo.
You shall give the foeman all his due,
And let him win if he can;
But keep all rights that belong to you,
For that is the law of man.
You shall hold the ground that is yours by right,
And yield not a foot you have trod.
But grant his right in a stand-up fight,
For that is the law of God.
If you row with the crew in the boat,
It's a wretched thing to spy.
There's plenty of work when you leave the float,
But little to do for the eye.
There's plenty to do to swing and slide,
And steady the fragile shell,
But to gain your strength from the other side
Is a method sent from hell.
No man shall yield on the football field
Till the final whistle sounds.
No man shall show by a single blow
That he has no place on the grounds.
But when the foe is in racking pain
And cannot move or fight,
You shall help him up to his feet again,
And chafe his bruise and bind his strain,
To show the make of your own good grain,
For that is fair and right.
The strength of the team, or nine, or crew
Is not the strength of the "star."
'Tis what the body together can do
That carries the victory far.
So you shall give your mite to the rest
To bring the whole team through,
And then at the time of your single test
They shall give their strength to you.
And these are the laws of the athlete.
You can heed them or not, as you like,
But they make the code of the runner fleet,
And they check a man when he'd strike.
They tell you how to lay your plan,
And how to carry it through.
They help the man, who's done what he can,
To bear his Waterloo.
[PLASTER-OF-PARIS FISH.]
BY BARNET PHILLIPS.
When you want to make a mixture of plaster of Paris and water, never put the plaster in the bowl first and then pour on the water, for that is the way not to succeed. Pour the cold water into the bowl first, and after that, little by little, add the plaster. Take the plaster in pinches, crumble it with your fingers, and use it that way. When the plaster is just below the level of the water, you can stir it with a clean spoon or a spatula. If it seems too thin you can add more plaster. You ought to make a mixture of about the consistency of a thick batter. You stir it in order to get rid of the air bubbles. To make good casts is a regular business. The ornamentations of ceilings are made with plaster; and asking some of the workmen what they did when mixing the plaster, they said, "the great secret is to mix the composition slowly."
When I worked away as a boy, making casts of medals, I knew nothing about taking casts of fish. In the United States National Museum at Washington there are many casts taken from the actual fishes. No matter what may be their size, from a minnow to a halibut, there they all are. The modellers who do this kind of work go very far with these casts, for they paint them the exact color of the fish.
I remember having seen a Chinese of rank, attached to the Chinese Legation, who was looking in a kind of indifferent manner at the many objects in the National Museum. Nothing seemed to interest him particularly. Presently, however, he saw the fish. Then he became very much excited, and said in English, "That fiss in my countly, and that fiss too." The painted plaster casts were so lifelike that they recalled the fish in his own Chinese waters. The Museum was to that Chinaman an object-lesson.
Now I am certain that if boys or girls knew how to make plaster-of-Paris fish look like the real ones, it would not alone be an interesting occupation, but an instructive one.
I have explained how the plaster is to be mixed. It is better to buy the plaster in small quantity, not more than a pound at a time. It should be kept in a well-closed glass preserving jar. Some books will tell you to warm your plaster in an oven before using it so as to expel the moisture. I say do no such thing. If you warm it, it will set slowly—that is to say, it will take a long time to harden. Then you never will know, if you heat the plaster, how hot you get it, and it will set differently every time you use it.
Here are the things you want: A plate of common window glass somewhat bigger than your fish; a bit of wood, which will vary according to the size of your fish; two small screws; some potter's clay; a few pins; some shellac varnish; a brush; a little alum; and, of course, your fish.