136 



FOREST AND , STREAM. 



approachable score of 245 bits, and 1.251 points, made by 

 Horace A. Ford at the Double York Round of 144 arrows at 



100 y an.ls, 98 arrows at 80 yards, and 48 arrow 

 Leamington, England, in i85T, was not shot 

 wind. Of course an a i ■ a if accomplishing such a 



result in the most perfecl Weather could do well iu any -■ 

 yet we ran only account for such a result as the amazing score 

 above given by supposing that the archer was in the most per- 

 fect form, the gear use careful choosing and of 

 lung use ■with the shooter, the targets placed bi 

 sible light, and the weather upon the two days shot must have 

 been Lhfl sweetest in the history Of the Isles. For in no oilier 

 way can one conceive the possibility of such shooting. While 

 we have no detailed account of the scoring, yet upon divid- 

 ing it. upon the most reasonable proportions "as to the three 

 the archer must, have averaged with each 

 thirty arrow-; shot at eacb distance about as follows ! 100 

 yds, 30 arrows, 100 points ; 80 yards, 30 arrows, 140 points ; 

 60 yards, 30 arrows, 202. Of course one who has shot a few 

 years can readily imagine how an archer might poasil 

 such a score as either of the above with 30 arrows ; but re- 

 membering that this archer averaged thus for two succesive 

 days, shooting altogether 28S arrows ami only three at an end, 

 walking to the next I argot at every three shots, and shooting 

 back, the mind becomes at once, possessed with the idea that 

 the perfection of archery was there and then realized. Such 

 a result . cunld not have been possible even with Ford except 

 nature had prepared the occasion. At very short distances 

 the effect of a moderate wind upon an arrow is slight because 

 of its instantaneous flight, but in shooting ut distances from 

 60 to 100 yards a faint breeze that barely waves the tall grass 

 or stirs lazily the branches of the trees, will bear an arrow en- 

 tirely off the target that otherwise would have pierced the 

 gold. The novice under such circumstances will not per- 

 ceive that his arrow has been affected by the wind, particular- 

 ly if it be a " broad and equal blowing'"' breeze, for the action 

 has been bo gentle and steady that the arrow has been gradu- 

 ally pushed aside, though the smoothness of its flight has 

 been unimpaired. Not being aware of the cause of thejdefect 

 the archer will repeat the shot with the same result many 

 times in succession. To the trained archer, however, this 

 sort of wind is of all the most easily managed. He has only 

 to allow for his nest shot the distance his first has been borne 

 away, and he smiles with pleasure as he sees the obedient ar- 

 row rise and fall, slip round its double curve and fall with a 

 dull plunge into the central gold. But there are winds that 

 no philosophy can prepare against. Those most difficult 

 are not the mad March gale that rushes up or down the 

 range, blowing down targets and carrying away the light 

 arrow by sheer strength, for in such a case the archer has 

 only to exchange his 48-pound bow for his 65 pounder, and 

 bis 4.3 arrows for bis 5.6 ones; and drawing them to the 

 head, he will find that the low, impetuous rush of the heavy 

 Bhtfts are too much for the fierce gale. And herein lies the 

 great advantage of the athlete, with his mighty bow and 

 heavy arrow, over his weak antagonist bearing the light gear. 

 Their equality is nearer than one would think on a fair day, 

 but in the storm the weak vessel goes down. This was well 

 exemplified at the English Grand National Tournament in 

 1877, when the burly preacher, W. Rimington, bore away the 

 championship medal from Fisher, Ealairet and Finkuey in 

 the tempest that swept over the ranges of Doncaster Moor, 

 The most troublesome winds to the expert are those undecid- 

 ed, restless and ever changing ones that come now out of the 

 east, now out of the west { run up from the south, and sweep 

 with a little whirl around a half circle and back with a pufl 

 from the north. They push the arrow away from the target, 

 now on one side, now on the other. Running down the 

 range with the arrow, they lift it clean over the target, or 

 meeting it midway in full charge, they break the force of its 

 flight, and it drives into the ground a few feet short. Often, 

 in shooting long distances, when the arrow will be high in the 

 air in its middle flight, it will be seen to waver and rock to and 

 fro without apparent cause, and its destination changed and 

 flight ruined. This is caused by the harsh blowing aloft of 

 narrow streams of wind, while all is serene at the surface of 

 the ground. Sometimes the wind will be ur 

 from right to left where the target stands, while at the posi- 

 tion of "the shooter it is blowing in a contrary direction. The 

 archer, making due allowance for the effect of the wind 

 which he feels at his position, is surprised to sec that his ar- 

 row not only holds the full allowance given it against the 

 wind, but actually gains upon it and goes far wide of the 

 mark upon the^windward side. No more striking p 

 occurs in literature than that in which Old Roger Ascham 

 describes the wind which he saw as he rode upon the highway 

 between " Topcliffe on Swale and Borowe Bridge." 1 copy 

 it verbatim et literatim et jmmtuatim from *' The Scheie of 

 Shooting," published by that, author and presented to King 

 Henry Vlll. in the gallery at Greenwich, in the year 1545 : 



"To fe the wynde with a man his eyes, it is vnpoffible, 

 the nature of it is to fyne, and fubtile, yet this experience had 

 I ones myfelfe, and that was in the great fuowe that fell tiii 

 yeaus agon : I rode iu the bye waye betwixt Topclifl 

 Swale and Boro waye bey bag fuinwhat ti odden 



afore, by waye fayrynge men. The feeides on hoi 

 were'playne and laye almofte yean 1 we, the 



ayght afore had ben a title froffe fo yat the fnowe was hard 

 and crufted aboue. Yat morning the fun fhonc bright and 

 clere, the winde was whiltelinge a lofte, and fharpc 

 vnge to the tyme of the yeare. Thefnowe in the h.3 

 laye loofe and troden wyth boric £e I o as the wynde 

 blewe, if loke the loofe fnowe with it, and it fo flide ypon the 

 the fnowe in the felde wliyche was harde and crufted by rea- 

 fon of the froft ouer uyghl,, that therby I myght fe vcrye wel, 

 the bole nature of the wynde as it blewe yat daye. And I 

 had a greate delyte and pleafure to marke if, whych maketh 

 rne now far better to remember it. Bometyme the wynde 

 would not paft ii yeardes btoje, and fo it would carie the 

 fnowe as far as. I could fe. An other tyme the fnowe would 

 blewe ouer halfe the felde at ones. Sometyme the fnowe 

 would tumble foftly, by and by it would flye 

 wonderfull foft. And thys 1 percyued alto that 

 ye wynde goeth by ftreaines and not hole t 

 For I fhould fe one ftreame wyth in a score on me, than the 

 fpace of ii, f core no fnow would ftin muche 



.itiantilie of grounde, an other ftreame of fnow at the fame 

 very tyme fhould be caryed lykewyfe, but not equally. For 

 the one would tiauov : other hew apace, and fo 



contynewe fometyme 1 wiftlj 1 1 



broder foiuciitu uarro r, as far as I collide fe. Noritflew 

 not fteight. but fom I ometyme 



lhat waye, and fometi mo it ra 



And fometyme the fnowe wolde belyfte dene from the ground 

 vp in to the ayer. and by and by it woulde be al clspt to the 

 zrounde as though there had bene no wynde at al, ftreightway 

 t woulde rife and flye agayne. And that whych was mooft 



one tyme, ii dril'te of fnowe flewe the one 



yeeilft: and I saw, ii, wyndes by reafon of ye foovft the 

 one croffe ouer the other, as it. hnd'bern I .. 

 agayne I El 



grounde. And when al was ftyll 

 far from me the f novvu would be lifted 

 wonderfully. Thys experience made me more meruale at ye 

 U it made mo conning in ye know- 

 ade." 

 Bow simnly and yet how strongly the old master has told 

 his tale of wonders, lie "spake full well in language quaint 

 i, 'and it would bi doubt its veracity- 



Seeing the wind streams, as Ascham saw them that day, how 

 could he have guided an arrow safely through their willful 

 distant mark? Winds are not less playful now 

 than iu the days of Ascham, or less, variable in America than 

 in the Brinish Isles. If therefore requires the alert archer to 

 shoot well iu all weather, To do this the archer need not at- 

 tempt the study of the wind, for that is useless, but he must 

 study the flight of his arrow. Its normal flight should bo 

 smooth, steady, and rising nud falling in a direct line. If iu 

 the latter part of its course it veers from its true line gradual- 

 ly, the wind is pushing it in a steady stream aside. If it 

 does not seem to fall enough in the latter part of its course 

 the wind 1 it fall too much, the wind is rnak- 



" wabbles" high in mid course, 

 there are counter currents blowing aloft. If it thus "wabbles" 

 in short distance shooting there is a. sudden narrow stream 



pouring across the range." ,11 bingfi and many more 



will only be learned by intelligent practice, carefully observ- 

 ing the flight of the arrow at every shot. And after all, the 

 half will never be known. Guard'against it as you may, the 

 wind will have its way, and many times the weary archer 

 will leave the target ground with the thought uppermost that 

 there is no mistress so willful, no coquette so capricious, no 

 spirit so restless and uncontrollable as the wind. He will find 

 that there are many things about it which he docs not know 

 other than " whence it oometh or whither it goeth." Many 

 archers have noticed, and many archery authorities have 

 called atteti I hat one can do much better shoot- 



ing about sundown, and the reason is usually given that thc- 

 air is clearer and i he vision keener at that hour. The con- 

 *. for the air is then much less clear than at noon. 

 The* principal reason is that the tired winds go down with the 

 sun, there, is a lull in the restless streams, and the arrow fol- 

 lows with absolute accuracy the beautiful parabola fashioned 

 by the force of the trajection and the attraction of gravitation. 

 One after another they rise and fall with an entrancing mon- 

 otony, each followed by that indescribable sound which 

 marks the central hit aud which makes an echo in the archer's 

 " .ilingly sweet as those sounds which smite upon 

 the ears of the victorious soldier when the bravest trumpets 

 of his country blow. Will H. Thompsos. 



THE ASTLEY BELT COMPETITION. 



The Astley "Long-Distance Championship Belt of the 

 World," was originally offered in January, 187S, by Sir John 

 Ougdale Astley, Baronet and Member of Parliament from 

 North Lincolnshire, who has long been known as a supporter 

 of athletics, and especially of pedestrianism. The belt is 

 Of nine plates of solid silver, three by two and one- 

 half inches in size, linked together and mounted upon a band 

 of red leather. The central plate is gilded aud bears upon it 

 the name of the belt ; upon another plate is the record of the 

 first competition for it, and other plates are left blank for 

 records of the other contests. The belt is valued at $ 500, and 

 this amount must be deposited with the trustees as a guarantee 

 of its safety. The conditions governiug the belt are as fol- 

 lows: 



1 er will iiavo to defend its clana to tut- belt for is months, 



and should he wish to have it In his possession he must give security 



ii," 1 1. . rad undertake to restore It when called 



~U. In ease of the licit being won by any person resident out Of the 



United Kingdom, the Trasteea shall, U thej tilok in, demand the de- 



etore permitting the trophy to 



subject to the 

 repiired to de- 

 1 issue ot any 



sBolder wltnin four weeks pre- 



. ■■■; he grate receipts (after 



.- i;ive bteu |i:-.ulj to Ii -. distiiouicd among tie competitors 



an may be agreed upon beforehand, with the approval of tie Trustees. 



Pi. Tue committee of tfce A. A. 0, are the appointed Trustees. The 

 editor of the. ■ , ininated stakeholder for au.y matches 



timt. muv arise for the belt. 



VII. all app ' .piub not provided lor by these conditions 



siall be made to the Trustees of the belt, whose decision shall In all 

 cases be tlnal, and snbiect to no appeal la a court of taw or otherwise. 



The first " go-as-you-please" race for the trophy was held 

 March 13 to 23, 1878, at Agricultural Hall, London. Among 

 thirteen men, Daniel O'Leary, the American representative, 

 went to the front, and won the belt with a record of 524 miles 

 and two laps, a score which has not been equalled in subse- 

 i[iieut competitions. His closest competitor, Vaughn, made 

 000 miles, and " Blower " Brown, 177 miles and two laps, no 

 i . ot-liing 450 miles. 



The second match was in this city, Sept. SO to Oct. 15, 1878. 

 O'Leary's only competitor being one John Hughes, of New 

 Voik, better known as the " Lepper." The match was more 

 Of a catch-gate-penny scheme than anything else. O'Leary 

 walked only 403 miles, and his competitor 310. 



The present match, Which 1 1 spects was a most 



remarkable one, began at Gilmore's Garden, Monday, March 

 10, at 1 a. m. The contestants were: O'Leary, the champion ; 

 Charles Rowell, John Kimis and Charles Harriman. Rowel! 

 is a compact little Englishman, very short and very muscular 

 His occupation in England is as near tbat of our Whitehall 

 boatmen as anything else we have in this country. He had 

 an excellent reputation as a long-distance runner, and was 

 selected by Sir John Astley as the English contestant to win 

 back the belt, from America. His usual gait is a dog trot, 

 which he keeps up with the same regularity of movement tbat 

 distinguishes O'Leary's walk. Ennis IB a Chicago Irishman, 

 who has a line athletic record, was his own backer, and it is 

 said mortgaged his house for the necessary stake money. 

 Harriman Is a long-limbed young fellow from Maine, the 

 36-hours' champion of America. He is a shoemaker when he 

 is not a pedestrian, 



The distinguishing characteristic of the Gilmore's Garden 

 competition was the universal and intense interest manifested 



in its progress by all classes of people from the 

 Ann Street to the Lank president of Madison Avenu 

 less the international Charai 



.-■-.. .; ■;,, . , ,, 



whether one or another of 1 : |y became 



".i i isiasm when England and America were pitted 



on the sawdust course. This was also in 

 the climax of the pedestrian furore which 

 grossing possession of the country for months past. The 

 publie had become surfeited with the 3, 000. quarter mile 

 dames and damsels ; its palied appetite ci aved something more 

 pungent, and when the doors of the Garden were opened early 

 Sunday evening the crowd was there and jammed itself in. 

 At midnight — an hour before the start — the vast space was 

 choked up with a surging throng, and the doors were closed, 

 only to be burst in by the clamorous thousands without. The 

 clubbing of the multitude I,, .\tw York police- 



men began promptly at midnight, and an hour later the four 

 pedestrians appeared at the line, and, amid huzzas, shouting, 

 screeching and the thunderous din and clamor whit 



York audience alone knows how to make, i h ofl OB 



their long and weary tramp. Rowel irkatonoe 



by breaking into a run, leaving O'Leary behind, and then 

 closing up again upon bis rival, dogging his steps, following 

 him relentlessly arouud and around, worrying and annoying 

 him. These tactics the Englishman kept up throughout the 

 race, selecting his victim and sticking to him lap after lap, 

 except when he chose to pass him aud widen the gap be- 

 tween them. At the close of the first hour the relative posi- 

 tions of the four men were- Howell. Ii miles and 7 laps; 

 O'Leary, 6 miles and 2 laps; Ennis, 6 miles and 1 lap ■ Har- 

 riman, 5 miles and 4 laps. Ennis was very sick at his stom- 

 ach the first day, and it seemed to his friends certain that, he- 

 must give up the work ; but the resolute fellow stuck to it, 

 and after the first t~ 1 inly succeeded in retain- 



ing his food, but was throughout the match physically the 

 best man of the four, by 9 o'clock Harriman, who had been 

 gradually gaining on Ennis, scored 84 miles laps to the lat 

 ter's 32 miles, and. kept the lead thus assumed, grail 

 ening the gap between himself and O'Leary, until at 5 o'clock 

 he passed the champion, the score of the four men 

 pearing on the huge blackboard at the end of the Garden -. 

 Howell, 83 miles"; Harriman, 74 miles 5 laps , O'Leary, 73 

 miles 4 laps ; Ennis, GO miles 3 lapB. 



.From the. walk of last fall it will be remembered O'Leary went 

 to .the Hot Springs, Arkansas, for treatment, hut. failed to 

 find the relief and recuperation which he sought. He was 

 in no fit physical condition to undertake the tremendous task 

 of a six-day's walk, and at a very early stage of the match it 

 became a foregone conclusion that he must succumb. He 

 struggled on, the distance between himself and the rest con- 

 stantly and rapidly widening, until Wednesday a 

 when at half-past five, having walked 215 miles aid I 

 staggered into his cottage and abandoned all further partici- 

 pation in the walk. The score at that time was: Rowel], 253 

 miles ; Harriman, 245; Ennis, 233, aud 7 laps. The collapse 

 Of O'Leary took from the match one of its greatest elements 

 of attraction \ many of the thousands which thronged the 

 Garden having been drawn thither to see him. 



The interest of the general public was now centered upon 

 the tall Maine boy, whose lgng, easy strides bore liim around 

 the course with a regularity of movement which called forth 

 repeated rounds of applause. But it was evident to keen ob- 

 servers that the Shoemaker could not. last. Rowell'S dog- 

 trot at his heels worried him out. He kept bravely on, aud 

 upon the bulletins, which were improvised all over the city 

 from the Battery to the last Hat lciu linger 1- er saloon, his 

 name appeared next to Rowell's. but with the gap between 

 his own score and that of Ennis gradually dec 

 o'clock of the fourth day, when Ennis foig 

 ures then showing : Rowell. 344 miles, 5 laps; Bi 

 miles, 7 laps j Harriman, 315 miles. 



Harriman's task was after this one of the most painful en- 

 durance ; but he kept pluckily ou without hopes of more than 

 securing a share of the gate money by doing 150 miles. The 

 interest of the spectators and of the I i iubbj .■■ ■..,. did not 

 witness the walk themselves but clott (oil 

 in the hourly extras and on the bulletins, was mm in© 

 trated upon the Maine buy. Rowell was ahead, ai 

 hours slipped by and the gap between the Englishman and 

 the Chicago Irishman grew no less, it waa gcneia... 

 as established that the belt was to g bad oglafid. But 



would Harriman, who had toiled BO bravely and suffered so 

 much, make bis 450 miles and win his 20 per cent, of flic ad- 

 mission receipts'/ For it had hcen agreed before the start no 

 one should divide the spoila who had not covered 

 tance. There was to be no play about this. An old Sautkrit 

 proverb— older by twenty centuries than long-distan 

 Irian contests — has it that "A mile is long to him that is 

 aweary"; and Harriman was very, very weary. The miles 

 were very, very long to him. At noon of the sixth day there 

 were still twenty-two of them before him. But be trudged 

 on, stretching out his long legs, swinging hi ■ 

 looking determination with his long face. Then at a quarter - 

 ■■in- the scene of the wee a came out 



from a rest in his cottage, so stiff and lauic that he could 

 hardly walk. The sympathetic audience cheered him tumul- 

 tuously. Then Rowell came up, thrust his 

 riman's, and amid redoubled applause walked v 

 helping him along. Ennis at from his 



house, put himself ou Harriman 



left arm; aud the three walked on, while the thousands of 

 spectators made the old Garden ring svith such applause as it 

 never knew before and will never hear again. This was too 

 much for poor Harriman ; it touched him when the stiffei i ug 

 would not, and bis ",. •'- ! '•• ' 1,Q tears, Two 

 thus made. Harriman wsb cheered Up to keep on Ids way-, 

 Rowell won scores aud st and Ennis, who 



had been a favorite from the start, added new laurels in his 

 record. 



The climax of the six days came in the evening, when all 

 eyes were still upon lianlmau. At 8 o'clock Ro 

 made 496 miles, Ennis 175, and Harriman 447. Rowell had 

 long been assured of the belt, for had he. stopped early in the 

 day, Ennis could not have made tee distance necessary to 

 pass his record. But Harriman had still three miles to go, 

 and the three men— Rowell ahead " cutting out the pace," 

 Harriman in the centre, and Ennis bringing J 

 were applauded and cheered aud greeted with every kind of 

 plauditory noise ever made by a human being i yell 

 "hi his," cat calls, screeches", whistles, howl lioul clap 

 ping of hands, Stamping of feet and canes, an 1 last, but no!. 

 least, clouds and el i 



spectacle— the little round-: Englishman ; the 



lank, hollow-eyed, long-striding Yankee, and the sturdy Irish- 

 man, going around and around. While the 

 , ence rose at their approach and sent, them on with the mapi- 



