personal dignity requires me to keep my word.'

'Good Heavens! My Amadée devoured by a bear!'

'My dearest wife, it cannot be helped. It must be; and what must be, must.'

The party starts, after endless handshaking and kissing and affectionate wishes for good success; it returns without the bear, worn out with fatigue, but safe and sound. The chase, nevertheless, has not been an unproductive one for the wearer of the bearskin and his acolytes, who have pocketed innumerable tips.

Are there, then, no real bears to be seen here except those which come from Paris? Such is not exactly the case: witness the carbine presented to Lamazou the singer, by a society of Russian sportsmen, which proves that some are killed sometimes. Lamazou is a Béarnais who all winter long sings in Paris the original ballads of his native province, and in summer comes to the Pyrenees to repose his larynx and exercise his legs until he has encountered and slaughtered a bear. He employs Devisme's explosive bullets. When once the bullet is withinside the animal, it is all over with him he is struck dead, as if by lightning, foudroyé. The grand point is not to be alarmed at the sight of the bear, and to hit the mark.

The rejoicings which took place on the 15th of August, the Virgin's fête-day and the Emperor Napoleon's, enabled M. Comettant to witness two kinds of racing peculiar to the Pyrenees-the mountain race for men, and the pitcher race for

women.

What legs and lungs are necessary for the mountain race! At a given signal, fifteen of the nimblest mountaineers, bare-footed, bareheaded, in shirt-sleeves, and with their trousers turned up above the knee, started off at full speed. They leaped a first wall of stones, exactly as thoroughbred horses would do it, and then mounted a steep slope with the vigour of Zouaves making a charge. A second stone wall, which barred their passage, was cleared

with the same impetuosity as the first. At this point the rock is replaced by the earth of which the slope is formed. It rises, tortuous and sterile, at an angle of some forty degrees. The steeple-chasers, ceasing to run, here took to a foot-pace, striding along with remarkable ease and suppleness.

Half-way from the top, those who found themselves distanced, despairing to reach either of the three flags planted there, abandoned the contest and sat themselves down to take breath. Meanwhile, the others strode along with the same activity and ardour. But soon the prizes were seriously disputed by three only of the runners, who were now very close upon one another. One champion, adorned with brown cloth trousers, managed to get several yards ahead, and maintained his advantage till the end. He was scarcely visible to the naked eye; you were obliged to follow his movements with a glass. He did not appear to flag for an instant. The spectators, to use Madame de Sévigné's happy expression, had a pain in his chest. At last he snatched one of the flags.

But the prize was not yet his; for it was only awarded to him who should be the first to plant the flag at the starting-point, opposite the station occupied by the judges and stewards of the race.

Without losing a moment, the victorious runner set about descending the mountain with a rapidity that was truly incredible. Down the steep rock, covered with stones of all sizes and beset with natural obstacles, he seemed to glide as if he had castors on his feet. You feared that the winner, on reaching the goal, would fall dead with the final effort. Happily, nothing of the kind occurred. On arriving, the mountaineer nimbly bounded over the wall of stones, stuck his flagstaff in the ground, and began dancing a jig, to show he was not yet exhausted. A minute afterwards the two other laureats arrived almost together. The countenance of one of them betrayed distress, and he appeared to breathe with difficulty: they gave him a cordial

draught, which completely restored him.

As to the first-prize man, he was only a little out of breath; his feet had not a scratch. That is being something like a man! True, Batant-Lapeyre (the conquering hero's name has lived up in the mountains from his earliest child hood, and only comes down to Cauterets on Sundays). The three men of steel clubbed their winnings, and with the amount treated the vanquished to refreshments and a ball to the sound of the bagpipe. They drank and danced till two in the morning.

The pitcher race is comical. Three females entered the lists, each carrying on her head a large pitcher filled with water. One, two, three! and off they start, running as quick as possible, and striving to keep in balance their pitchers, which they are not allowed in any case to touch with their hands. It is a serious business: the prize is ten francs!

The three competitors, skimming the ground and pressing each other close, have twice gone round the square. One of them, finding herself suddenly distanced, makes a violent effort to regain the advantage; but she feels that her pitcher is losing its centre of gravity on the cushion which supports it on her head. The pitcher must fall-that's evident: but if she can reach the goal before the catastrophe, she will have won the prize all the

same.

Redoubling, therefore, her speed, and instinctively raising her hands towards the pitcher, nevertheless without touching it, she is within a few paces of the wished-for spot, when the pitcher, alas! falls and is smashed at her feet.

How many ambitious folk of all descriptions have to behold their pitcher broken at the very moment of attaining their object! Poor woman! her heart is bleeding at having lost at once both her prize and her pitcher.

But Cauterets is rich in resources, and never fails to aid severe misfortune. A female acquaintance, a letter of chairs, moved by generous sentiments which it is impossible to

appreciate too highly, collects a subscription in favour of the damsel with the broken pitcher. From all quarters sous pour in, in such profusion, that the raceress discovers she has been playing a game of 'the Loser Wins.'

Charming women, do what they will, can never be otherwise than charming. The fact is proved at the springs de la Raillère, a little above Cauterets. If one operation, more than another, would appear incompatible with grace, certainly it is the act of gargling the throat. Well, at the risk of being disbelieved, our holiday-maker states that he has seen women who are never more graceful than when they gargle. And in what different ways they do it! Some, after taking a mouthful of liquid, sit down, lean their head back, discreetly halfclose their mouth, raise their eyes to heaven, and so bathe their larynx, still and silent, in a position which appears extatic. Others remain standing, and do their gargle with rounded arms and open fingers, in a style that would make the fortune of a picture, if any painter were there clever enough to do justice to the pretty invalids in all the details of their graceful treatment. Others compose a melancholy countenance, and appear to be addressing a secret prayer: 'Oh, let my health return, in order that next winter I may not miss a single concert, opera, or ball!' Others, again, cover their mouth with a richlyembroidered handkerchief, and agitate the pupils of their eyes with mysterious shudderings of adorable delicacy. Itlooks as if those ladies had taken lessons in gargling, as they have in dancing, playing, and singing. Are there, then, professors of gargleism, as there are of music and deportment? Certain it is that, although the gargling room is the only place of public performance at Cauterets, the spectacle at least is gratis and original, and will help the simple spectator to pass a pleasant moment.

At last the one-and-twentieth bath was taken, the fortieth glass of water drunk, and the traveller left at liberty to depart, out of fashion;

English Ladies,' published in 1621, occurs the following passage: 'A paille maille is a wooden hammer set to the end of a long stoppe, to strike aboute with, at which game noblemen and gentlemen in France doe play much.'

In 1670, however, the game was well known. In the edition for that year of Blount's 'Glossographia' we are told that 'paille maille is a game wherein a round bowle, is with a mallet struck through a high arch of iron (standing at either end of the alley), which he that can do at the fewest blows, or at the number agreed on, wins.' This game was heretofore played in the long alley near St. James's, and vulgarly called Pell Mell. The Mall, which at present exists in St. James's Park, was arranged by Charles II.; but the Mall, on which now stands the street above mentioned, was used as a ground for this sport as early as the reign of James I. The Apple-tree YardSt. James's Square of the present day-was then a piece of pastime ground known as Pell Mell Close, and evidently derived its name from the locality where the game was played. That the game was very popular during the reign of the Merry Monarch there can be no doubt, as the king is often described as excelling at pall mall, and evidently was a zealous player. The poet Waller, in his poem, 'St. James's Parke, as lately improved by his Majesty,' witnesses to this fact in the following lines:

Here a well-polished mall gives us the joy
To see our prince his matchless force employ,
His manly posture and his graceful mien,
Vigour and youth in all his members seem:
No sooner has he touched the flying ball,
But 'tis already more than half them all;
And such a fury from his arm has got,
As from a smoking culverin 'twere shot.'

The Duke of York, afterwards James II., was also a good player, as, in fact, were most of the courtiers; for Pepys records in his diary for April 2nd, 1661; To St. James's Park, where I saw the Duke of York playing at pell mell, the first time that ever I saw the sport in this country.' Taking Waller's poem as an authority, many writers

state that Charles II. introduced the game into this country, whereas we know it was occasionally played in the reign of James I., as we have already recorded. Prince Henry, however, played on the ground now occupied by the street, Pall Mall, which was then merely a walk made for the purpose, and lined with trees. In Charles I.'s reign, however, the game seems to have fallen into desuetude, as during the Commonwealth the alley, or avenue, had already begun to be converted into a street, and therefore Charles II. was compelled to arrange the avenue in St. James's Park, now known as the Mail, for the purposes of the game, and also to appoint men to keep it in good order. Our gossip, Samuel Pepys, in his diary for 15th of May, 1663, informs us how this was managed. He writes: 'I walked in the Parke discoursing with the keeper of the Pell Mell, who was sweeping of it, who told me of what the earth is mixed that do floor the Mall, and that over all there is cockle shells powdered, and spread to keep it fast, which, however, in dry weather turns to dust and deads the ball.' The Mall, too, was rolled regularly, and kept in beautiful condition with the greatest care, and was, according to a contemporary author,* 'of a reasonable good length, straight and even, and if one had a paille maille, it were good to play in the alley.'

Authorities differ considerably with regard to the regulations of this regal pastime. In an old book of French sports, however, the following account of the game is given: This game, which is said to have been played by the Gauls, our ancestors, was so generally played in former years, that the greater portion of the promenades adjoining many of our towns consisted of a long avenue, termed the mail, because it was set apart for the jeu de mail. In the game the players stood at one end of the Mall, and endeavoured to strike the ball by hitting it with the mallet,

* Nares' French Gaiden for English Ladies.'

through a ring which was suspended at a certain distance from them. Whoever first succeeded in doing this, won the game.' It may perhaps be imagined that the dissolute gallants at Charles II.'s court were not very energetic or persevering in a game which required so much exertion as pall mall. Mr. Pepys, however, tells us that the contests were often so keen, that people sometimes stripped to their shirts. On the demise of the king, the game died out in England almost entirely, although it continued to flourish in France, and lives there to this present day. On the death of Charles II., all traces of this pastime soon became lost in this country, until about thirty years ago, when a game sprang up in Ireland known as crokey, in which the operation of cracking the balls seemed to be the chief feature of the game, since the hoops were almost left to themselves, and the cracking was considered of most importance. The game soon found many admirers, and was encouraged by ladies, who took part in it. It is evident that in the reigns of the Stuarts, whatever manly accomplishments Nell Gwynn and her companions possessed, a participation in the game of paille maille was not among them. From crokey to croquêt the latter a Gallic imitative manner of spelling the former-the transition is easy; and although the orthography of the title of the game and the French word for gingerbread are identical, it is almost certain that there is nothing synonymous in their meanings. That there are quite enough points of resemblance between the games of croquêt and pall mall, to justify our opinion that the groundwork of croquêt is the older game, which we have already stated is so ancient that, according to a French writer, it was played by the Gauls, is evident, we believe, to all. In some particulars, of course, the games differ greatly as time has worked its innovations; but the mallets, and the shape of the balls, in name and form are identical. Indeed, the resemblance between the mallet of pall mall and the mallet

of croquêt, is too complete to be doubted. There are now in the British Museum a pair of mallets used in the reign of the Stuarts, which, according to Mr. John Timbs, were found in 1854, in the house of the late Mr. B. L. Vulliamy, No. 68, Pall Mall, in a box. This contained four pairs of the mailes, or mallets, and one ball, such as were formerly used for playing the game of pall mall in the Mall of St. James's Park. Each maile was four feet long, and made of lancewood; the head slightly curved, measuring outwardly 5 inches, the inner curve being 4 inches. The diameter of the maile ends was 24 inches, each shod with a thin iron hoop. The handle, which was very elastic, was bound with white leather to the breadth of two hands, and terminated with a collar of jagged leather. The ball was of box-wood, 2 inches in diameter.

We are enabled, by the courtesy of the authorities of the British Museum to give a drawing of these pall mall mallets, from which the reader can see how very closely they resemble the mallets now used in the game of croquêt.

That the game of croquêt has during the last few years become very popular, is simply a fact. A short time since but very few knew that there was such a game; and now, not only everybody seems aware of its existence, but almost every person can play at it, and, what is more to the point, finds very much enjoyment in the sport. The next question, therefore, to be considered is, what are the chief causes of the great popularity that this game has achieved in so short a time? Cynical old bachelors and mysogynists aver that the reason why men like the game, is, because in it girls show their ankles; and that the reason why women like it is, because it fosters their conceit, by allowing them to prove their equality with the lords of the creation.' This is the style of argument usually adopted by people who know little or nothing about this sport. The prevalent idea with regard to it, in the minds of such people, is that people play at it merely for the sake