LIFE OF THE AUTHOR xiii 



which they did. He was a man of little faith, 

 and vexed me exceedingly, but no worse than 

 another artist who performed quite the same feat 

 with billiards, and changed the name of the 

 strokes so as to make variety. He succeeded : 

 but the variations were startlingly original, as, 

 for instance, making 'long spot strokes off three 

 cushions ' and ' runs of winning hazards off the 

 red into the middle pocket ' ! 



'' Dear, dear, how fondly I look back to those 

 old days and enjoy reminiscences of the fine fun 

 incidental to hurrying away telegrams of results, 

 etc. ; grand sport, requiring you to be on your 

 toes all the while, and up to all manner of dodges 

 to beat time. Nobody shall ever be told how I 

 beat all the rest of the agencies in getting off 

 the result of a boat race, Hanlan v. Boyd, on the 

 Tyne. There I was, in London, commissioned 

 on a Saturday night by a rival agency to beat the 

 Man in Newcastle, and had to do it. Beautiful 

 it was for me. I got to Newcastle on the Sunday, 

 the race was to be sculled on the Monday, and 

 not a soul to help me. The Sportsman — fine 

 organisers they always were — Messrs Ashley and 

 Smith's services covered the whole ground — had 

 enlisted all the Newcastle papers to aid them. 

 Systems of rockets and pedestrian runners, 

 cyclists, carrier-pigeons, guns, fast trotters, flags 

 — everything but wireless telegraphy came to be 

 laid on. Turn which way you would, the ground 

 was jumped ; wherever you looked for help — at 

 least, where I looked — I was in the enemy's 

 country. And I — poor me ! — my instructions 

 were to be first. How the devil can you hope to 

 be first when you are single-hand, and all the 

 powers are co-operating, defying competition ? 



