LIEUT.-GENERAL BURTON, in “An Indian Olio,” refers to the increasing scarceness of large game in India. After pointing out how the intrusion of the railway with the “diabolical screech of the steam whistle,” and “the demoralizing puff and snort of the rushing engine,” and the “evil odor of coal gas” penetrating the forest, acts upon such shy animals as the bison, he shows what the natives have to do with it. “Guns have of late years come much more generally into use with the natives. Where there was, fifty years ago, perhaps only one matchlock, a venerable flint musket, in a village, there are now a dozen, and natives have got much more into the habit of killing game—the eatable animals for food, the fierce and dangerous beasts (potted from a safe shelter) for the Government reward. I knew a party of natives go out under supervision, in fact, in pay of Brahmin (save the mark), with a big jingal, or wall piece, carried between two of them, until they came upon the fresh tracks of a herd of elephants. They then crept to within ten or fifteen paces and tied the jingal, ready loaded, and laid for the biggest elephant, to a tree trunk, lighted a slow match and retired to a safe distance. Presently the great weapon, which had been pointed straight for the vitals, behind the shoulder of the elephant, exploded with a report like that of a small cannon echoing through the forest.”
AMONG the features of New York life which particularly strike the visitor is the extreme elegance and luxury of the Hoffman House baths. The comfort of indulging in a thorough cleansing after the inevitable discomforts of travel, whether by sea or land, is sufficient to induce every traveler to visit them. But, moreover, residents of Gotham find that nothing so conduces to general health, or is so efficient a foe to rheumatism, neuralgia, or other “evils that the flesh is heir to,” as the Turkish bath. The result is that one and all fly to this, the best appointed establishment of the kind in the city.
EVERYBODY is going to Paris this year to the Exposition, and in this age of progress it is no great undertaking to cross the ocean, nor is one compelled to forego many comforts while traveling. True, some dissatisfaction is expressed from time to time at the want of proper accommodations in English hotels. This criticism does not apply, however, to the magnificent Hotel Metropole in London, which has already come under the favorable notice of many Americans, and is fast making new friends. Situated conveniently to the business portion of the city, while at no great distance from society’s haunts, it furnishes home comforts to the weary traveler, and affords every possible convenience and luxury.
An equally excellent and not less pretentious “hostelry” is the magnificent Victoria Hotel, one of the finest hotel buildings in the world, and conducted in a manner sure to please the American tourist. Its large number of patrons speak of it in terms of the highest praise. At either house rooms may be secured by cable from New York. We would advise tourists in 1889 to make sure of their apartments certainly by telegram from their landing-places in Britain.
THE following communication will have much interest, especially to our college readers:
The December number of OUTING says: “The first game of football in the United States was played in New Haven, in 1840, between the class of ’42 and ’43 of Yale College.” I am a graduate of the class of ’28. Immediately after the opening of the fall term in 1824, the then Freshman class were summoned to a class meeting, at which they were informed that by an established custom from time immemorial it devolved on the Freshman class to furnish footballs for the use of the college. The time-honored custom was recognized at once by the class and by every succeeding Freshman class during my student life. The games were played on the upper part of the public square directly in front of the college. There were frequent contests between the two lower classes; but the great games, played as often as convenience and weather allowed, were contested by the whole body of the students, divided into two parties known respectively as “North Entries” and “South Entries.” There were then standing on the college campus four dormitory buildings, each having two halls or entries. Those students who roomed in a north entry, or if rooming anywhere north of the central building, known then as now as the Lyceum, were on one side; the rest of the students were on the other. Those were famous games, where three or four hundred men engaged in earnest contest. The long-used ground was necessarily abandoned when the civil authorities decided, in 1828, to build the State House upon it.
YALENSIS SEXAGENARIUS.
To the Editor of OUTING:
DEAR SIR,—I was extremely pleased to note in your Open Window of the January edition that a word was spoken in behalf of rabbit coursing. Since the late cases at Hempstead an intolerable amount of nonsense has been written in the daily and weekly publications, and wholesale condemnation has been meted out to this sport, presumably by people who have never seen coursing, either with greyhounds or terriers. Those who have will, I feel sure, join with me in affirming that there is certainly no more cruelty in one sport than another; as is the greyhound to the hare or jack rabbit, so is the terrier to the ordinary rabbit, and in both cases the chance of escape is, in truth, but very small. But in rabbit coursing, as usually practiced in England, the rabbits are both found and coursed on their “native heath,” and therefore they have a very considerable advantage. I am not, however, trying to defend this or any other sport from the imputation of cruelty, for in every field-sport, properly so called, cruelty must exist. What better antidote exists to the emasculating tendencies of our boasted nineteenth century civilization? Or, who will contend that the natural propensity of the Englishman, as affirmed by the French, “to go out and kill something,” has not had much to do in placing the old country in her present position? I fail to see, myself, why the imputation of cruelty, which every journalist seems to be trying to fix on rabbit coursers, should not equally well apply to a man who will fire a gun at a partridge or pheasant. But with the curious logic of the present day, such is by no means the case. In conclusion, I must apologize for trespassing so far on your space, and heartily congratulate OUTING on having spoken bravely on the matter. It is too frequently the case that where one publication leads, the others follow like a flock of sheep. Yours respectfully,