Even lawn tennis, the most fashionable of them all, and the one which more than any other seems to have taken a permanent hold on the people of this country, appears to be merely a variation of a form of ball played by the Romans; one great difference being that with them the ball had always to be returned before it struck the ground -in fact "volleyed." There is no very definite description of it, but it would seem that, although there was no actual net as now, there was practically an imaginary one; and at the present time the Italians play a game called Pallone, that is probably derived from the same source. Further, a contest that within the last few years has had a place in the programme of most athletic meetings is even more directly one in which the ancients took part. The "tug of war" is quite a modern institution, but it is very nearly the same as a Grecian trial of strength, which appears to have been arranged in two ways, in one of which the only difference between it and the present "tug of war" is that fewer persons took part in it, and that they stood up instead of partly sitting as they do now. In the other, the rope was passed over an upper branch of a tree, or through a hole in a high post, and the competitors took hold of the rope, with their backs to the tree, and tried to pull up the opposite side.

Of course there is absolutely no means of judging of the relative powers of the ancients and the moderns in games of this description, any more than there is in the case of what used to be called the "noble art of self-defence." That the ancients, especially the Greeks,

did box, and that most savagely, we know. So far from using gloves to lessen the damaging effects of their blows, or even from using simply the power that nature and training had given to their bare fists, they increased this by tying strips of hard bull's hide round them when clenched, and sometimes even attached nails and lead buckles to these, to make their blows more deadly. They also usually, but not always, fought continuously until one of the combatants gave in, "rounds" apparently not being to their taste." But although there seems to have been this savagery about the contests, it by no means follows that a "scientific boxer" of the present day would not be able to hold his own in one, if a trial were possible.

One more exercise of the ancient Greek athletæ I will refer to, for while we do not practice it in the form they did, there is some resemblance between it and the game of skittles, which recently has come into fashion again, after being for many years relegated to the "Good dry skittle ground" which a quarter of a century ago was a frequent legend on the walls of beerhouses, and soon after that date extinguished altogether by an edict of the police. This Grecian pastime, which formed one of the Pentathlon (TETάeλov) at the Olympic Games, was throwing a heavy piece of cast-iron or stone, called a "diskos" (SOKOS), which was in shape much like the "cheese" with which the skittle-pins are knocked down; the object of the Greeks being to propel it in a curve to the greatest possible distance. Nevertheless, although the object to be attained was not the same as the

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"cheese" is now used for, being more akin to the modern exercise of "putting the stone," it is recognized that the origin of skittles is to be found here, and a fashionable social club which has been established principally for the purpose of the practice of this game, has taken the name of "Diskos" as its title.

"Diskos" is usually translated as meaning a "quoit," but this is an error. There is no resemblance whatever to the game of quoits in that of "throwing the diskos," neither are the instruments used alike. The statues of the Discobolus (dokoßóλos), or thrower of the diskos, in the British Museum and the Vatican, and some of which are reproduced at the Crystal Palace, represent the diskos, exactly as described by Lucian, without handle, aperture, or loop, and it is therefore a mistake to name them "Quoit players, as is done at the latter place. The object of the thrower was, as before stated, to propel the diskos as far as possible, and the distance to which it was ordinarily sent was called "the Diskoura" (τὰ δίσκουρα), and became a measure of length; but it does not seem to have been a definite one.


To return to the question, Are the athletes of the present superior to those of the past?

It certainly seems to me, from consideration of the various matters referred to, that our modern ones are decidedly physically stronger and capable of greater exertion, and also that, independently of that, they

are able to obtain more result from their exertions than the ancients. This appears only reasonably to be expected. We have gone forward in everything, despite the parrot.

cry of "Good old times;" and why not in the powers of our athletes? The men of the present day, we know, are larger than they were in bygone years, and therefore they should be more powerful; for it is an acknowledged axiom in sport that, other things being equal, a "big one will always beat a little one." H. ELLINGTON, in The Nineteenth Century.


PAPERS ON FUNGI.-In Science we read that:

"Botanists owe Professors Farlow and

Trelease a debt of gratitude for the publication of their Bibliography of North American Fungi in the May number of the Harvard University Bulletin. It contains a list of such works on North American fungi (excluding the Schizomycetes as belonging rather to the department of medicine than to botany proper) as are of greater or less value to working botanists. It is the first list of the kind yet published, and will show that the general belief of those not specialists in this branch of botany, that little has been written on North American mycology, is by no means correct. It includes a very large number of papers of a popular and indefinite character relating to fungi not specifically named which are scattered through various agricutural, horticultural, and other journals; the entries are in all cases accompanied by brief descriptive notes, which adds greatly to the value of the list; it contains also, when procurable, the place and date of birth of the authors included

in the list. The most prolific author noted is M: C. Cooke, whose papers, including those published with other persons, number 71: other prominent authors are J. B.

Ellis (50), W. G. Farlow (31), and M. J. Berkeley (30). Probably the complete list will contain more than seven hundred entries, of which nearly one-half are given in the present instalment, which reaches the letter H.”




Now the winter of sorrow is over,

And the season of waiting is done,
'Mid acclaim of the people who love her
Our Lady steps forth in the sun;

The green earth beneath and the blue sky above her,
She walks in the sight of the millions who cover
The realms she hath welded to one!

"Tis Jubilee here, and 'tis Jubilee yonder

As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
From the east to the west wakes the world in her honor,
The sunrise and sunset flash splendor upon her,

Now winter is over and done!


Empress and Queen, the flowers and fruits of nations.
Are heapt upon the footstool of thy throne;
Amid the thronging hosts, the acclamations,

The trumpets of thy Jubilee are blown!
Glorious and glad, with pomp and pride resplendent,
Thy subject Spirits come and wait attendant.
Tawny and proud, a queenly sibyl-maiden,

Comes India, clad in woofs of strange device,
With fruitage from the fabled Eastern Aidenn,

And gifts of precious gems and gold and spice; On a white elephant she rides, while round her

Like baying hounds her spotted tigers runBlack-brow'd as night, to her who tamed and crown'd her She comes, with fiery eyes that front the sun. Australia follows, in a chariot golden

Drawn by black heifers; on the chariot's side An ocean eagle sits with white wings folden,

And o'er her head float wild-fowl purple-dyed. Tattoo'd Tasmania, with wild ringlets flowing,

Followed by savage herds and hinds, strides near Canada comes moccassin'd, clearly blowing

Her forest horn, and brandishing her spear. Albion in martial mail, with trident gleaming, Leads an old lion and a lamb snow-white; Blonde Caledonia, with glad tartan streaming

Back from her shoulder, leaves her lonely height,

And with her mountain Sister, to the strumming
Of harp and pipe, joins the rejoicing throng.
The world is shadow'd with the swarms still coming
To hail their Queen with mirth and festal song!


For the winter of sorrow is over,

And gone are the griefs that have been,
'Mid acclaim of the people who love her
She comes to her glory, a Queen.

"Tis Jubilee here, and 'tis Jubilee yonder

As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,
From the east to the west wakes the world in her honor,
The sunrise and sunset flash splendor upon her,
Unclouded, at peace, and serene!


Yet. who is this that rises up before her,
Ragged and hungry, blood upon her hands?
Smileless beneath the heavens now smiling o'er her,
Wild grey-hair'd Erin on her island stands!
Loudly she crieth, "Crownéd queen and mother,
If such thou art, redress my children's wrong;
Upraise the seed of Esau! Bid his brother

Restore to him the birthright stol'n so long! 'Mid his fat flocks sits Jacob, unrepenting,

Yet starts with lifted wine-cup at my cry; My children starve-my tribe is left lamentingMy dwellings lie unroof'd beneath the sky. Even the mess of pottage gives he never,

For which he bought the birthright long ago; While joy in Jacob's vineyard flows for ever,

Esau preserves his heritage of woe!

Justice, O Queen, or--" For the rest she clutches Her naked knife, and laughs in shrill despair. . . .

O Queen and Empress, by the piteous touches

Of Love's anointing fingers, hear her prayer!

Let not thy Jubilee be stained, O Mother,

By the old sin the sinful past hath known.

The wrongs this Esau suffers from his brother

Are blood-stains on the brightness of thy throne!


Now the winter of sorrow is ended,

And the season of waiting is fled,
Let the blessing by all men attended
On Esau and Erin be shed!

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"Tis Jubilee here, and 'tis Jubilee yonder,
As far as the sun round thine empire doth wander,
But Esau roams outcast and homeless, O Mother,-
At night on the rocks, near the tents of his brother,
The weary one pillows his head!


O bright and beauteous, Lady, is thy splendor,
The waves of life leap round thee like a sea―
Smiling thou hearest, happy-eyed and tender,
The silver clarions of thy Jubilee!

And yet... O God! what shrouded shapes of pity,
Are these who cry unto thee from afar?
Huddling beneath the gas, in the dark City,

Hagar and Mary wail their evil star!

For Hagar still is hungry and forth-driven,

And Magdalen still crawls from door to door,
Tho' He who cast no stone, and promised Heaven,
Bade her repent and go, and sin no more.
Long, long hath she repented, tho' foul fetters
Still bind her to the sin without a name;
And on the children's hearts the crimson letters
Tell to a cruel world the mother's shame.
But thou, too, art a Mother, Queen appointed,

And thou, too, hast thy children! Wherefore, heed

The crying of the lost one, who anointed

Thy Master's feet, and save her sinless seed.
Feed Hagar and her little ones, whose crying
Pierces the heart of Pity to the core!

Find Magdalen, from shrine to shrine still flying,
And say to him who stones her as of yore:
"The time hath come for justice in full measure,
For him who shares the sin to share the stain;
No longer shall my triumph or my pleasure

Be troubled by my broken sister's pain!"

O Lady, such a word of vindication

Shall value all thy splendor twentyfold; Hagar's new gladness, Magdalen's salvation, Would be a brighter crown than that of gold!


For the season of waiting is over,

And the winter of sorrow is done,
'Mid acclaim of the people who love her
Our Lady steps forth in the sun.

"Tis Jubilee here, and 'tis Jubilee yonder,

As far as the sun round her empire doth wander,

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