THE QUEEN'S PRIZE AT WIMBLEDON.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VI, Issue 250, 21 October 1871, Page 4

THE QUEEN'S PRIZE AT WIMBLEDON.

The Daily News of July 19, thus describes the exciting close of the contest for the Queen's prize : — Close to the left of the broad front of the firing point, very soon after the firing recommenced, a. prostrate competitor had registered to him •' a. /bull's eye. whereat there was a burst of suppressed cheering, mingled with the clapping of female palms and. the. waving of pocket handkerchiefs. Then there arose from the prostrate .firing position a tall^ slight young roaD, with a lean, healthy brown face, bare, smooth throat and shapely slender figure. As cool as if lie had taken a life in ! a threepenny pool, he stands leaning on his rifle talking to a pair of comrades in gray with red facings, he himself is in gray with red facings, and the whisper — everybody has taken to undertones now — runs round that the slim youngster is Ensign Humphrey, of Trinity College, Cambridge, aDd that the bull's eye just fired, his last shot, has raised his final, score to 68, an uncommonly likely figure for winning the Queen's Prize. But he has not won it yet. Ask the West of England men there if he has — those stout, sunburnt, countrymen, broad and slow of speech, who are watching their champioD, Corporal Poole, of the Somereet Administrative Battalion. Poole. left off at gunfire with a score of 56, and four shots to fire. It is in his power to add 16 to this, if he should make nothing but bull's eyes, and he looks a bull'seye kind of man as, waiting for his turn, he sits with impassive — almost, one would say, phlegmatic — coolness, under the umbrella held oyer him by au anxious bottle-holder of his own corps. Ask the green Robin Hoods there, watching Silvermedal Mayfield. taking his shot as coolly as he might a glass of beer, whether the Oambridge man may yet shout as one shoutswhois-outof the wood. The call is for Pooled Poole comes from beneath the umbrella, saunters to the front, leisurely disposes himself prone upon his stomach, takes a long, long aim, aDd 'fires. A centre. . -A buzz runs round the crowd, and the West countrymen look content, for their, man is now 59, and even three more centres would brvpg him the. winner, for he has done better than Humphrey in the first stage, on the shooting iv which ties at the close are decided. He is back now again under; the umbrella, cool aod impassive as i ever, if you do not look very close, but therejs atrembleiabout the corners of the mouth that speaks of a struggle to keep down excitement. Presently his turn comes again. There is a still pause, as be lies extended, rifle l on shoulder, and this time bis aim is , yet. longer than before. The West countrymen flush with joy through their sunburn as another centre is announced — their man : ia now 62, and has still two shots in hand., Two inpre centres Would make him the winner. As Poole goes back to his umbrella they refrainJrom congratulating him. "Don't disturb him," t,hey; say, One to another. Perhaps they know their man. Cool aDd impassive as seems that quiet, grave, brown maD, with: the deep-set eye, and the stroDg short beard, there may be times when -the coolness is burnt up. by excitement, I—and1 — and the 'epoch;, of " funk" sets ib.;; His turn is rbpp'd .again. When he hfls.ipassed to the firing point, a man whispers, " He's goDe; he funks." The imputation stirsc the West country blboct^- " Darned ( if *c do," is '> ifcbe'aii|>;ry ; un dertone ans'we'Ftb'theVhis^ef^ A long aim— his" 'longest' yet—and as; rtjbe; smoke, blows off the pry^of j^Aumiss.l:^ goes round. No, it is not a miss— another oen|rje.; ( j ; . .^yA^'pe.atre i i t > ijs ; >?bii t^alatsf^-ifc s is;a;' ricochet centrei'Whic'h .counts nothiiig., The hope of the West country is quenched, and Poole's chance is extinguished. The battle-holder ahuts.up .uiabrella with

an air of dignified sorrow; and Poole, so close to the- hunch' of grapes, but now with his ladder broken, sits down ruefully, yet manfully, in the sun. "It wasn't my fault," he says, the first time he has broken silence since luncheon time, " I never fired what I thought a better shot." King Poole is dead; let us greet King Humphrey the living. Not just yet, though. All is not quite over. Firing is still going on, but only, as it seems, formally to complete the shooting. Now the crowd — previously exiled to the outer world beyond the ropes, breaks in, counting the remonstrant policemen, as nought, and jostles up against the chair-backs of the men sitting at the spyglasses. The policemen yield with good, humor. The sternness befitting a metro-, politan policeman is relaxed considerably at Wimbledou. Suddenly there is a shout, " Mayfield ! Mayfield ! " What has Mayfield done, then ? He has fired his last shot, and it is a bull's eye. ""He has tied Humphrey;'' is the rash cry— if this be the case he is winner of the gold as of the silver medal,' for he has made the better score at tbe first range. It looks as if it were the case. Mayfield is up on . the shoulders of two sturdy Robin Hoods, and being hurried through the crowd amid immense cheering. But there are two Richards in the field, and the undergrads of Cambridge know who is tbe Right Richard. Here comes Humphrey, borne aloff, not sitting, but spread-eagled in a remarkably uncomfortable positiou, one would say, on tbe shoulders of four of his comrades, and surrounded by a body guard of University men: and Vie.'s camp comrades. So he is the right man after all. The band of the V'c's plainly think so, and speak their minds right loudly in the strains of the " Conquering Hero," as they head the procession towards the Council tent, the procession, the-ceutre of a deDse moving crowd, whereof every -man — and every woman too, for that matter — is cheering.. On to the Council 'tent with the conquering hero. It takes a line of orderlies to bend back the throng, and even the rails are, taken at the charge, and hapless individuals come to grief by reason of mistaken confidence in their agility. Major Barnes tpsts the .rifle handed to him, and crowns the edifice with the words "All right." Then theris another convulsion of cheering,the rune; ning fire, of which has never yet ceased; and there is a demand for the badge of victory to be. attached unto some portion of the personal apparel of the victor. The modest victor wishes it shoved into his pocket. But his friends evidently think that this would be biding his light under a bushel. Some wish it put on. his cap, others pinned on his breast. The latter suggestion- is adopted, 1 and theo' the victor and his bearers emerge into the bpeb, amid another burst of cheering. Their destination is the camp of the Victorias, but a circuitous route i 3 adopted, which gives active people the chance of forestalling the throng. As the music and the cheering sound in the distance, at the head of Windmill-street, the Quarter-master -of the Victoria and Captain Tomkins are seen proceeding towards the gate, each, bearing a massive loving cup. They are followed by an enthusiastic private, with what seems, a pailful of beer. The Vie.'s, in all kinds of eccentric undress, rush out to meet their victorious camp chum. The volunteer cooks desert Tomkin's patent, and in bare arms and aprons head the welcome party. They form, too, an advance guard of honor, followed by two mounted policemen, who seem to enjoy the affair intensely. Then comes the band, and finally the triumphal car, composed of Cambridge men. There is a short stoppage as the crowd breaks in and blocks the way, and then the Queen's Prizeman is borne through the gate of his own camp, with big Pat Halkett at his elbow tendering him the .grateful tankard. Up goes, the big flag to the mast-head, the halliards, tugged at by brawny arms. An : attempt is made to form a ring in the centre of the encampment, which ultimately partially succeeds, aud the victor is at length deposited on terra firma, and, as the British manner is, called upon for a speech. ' Men and women jump on the top of Tomkios' patent to see the man of the hqpr,;,; ! Tomkmß\ patent.is still hot from cooking : lmicbeon, , ; and the rash adventurers : upon it^ excite : gymnastic manoeuvres suggestive of a bear on a hot iron, while a smell of burning leather perl vades ; the -community; The few words Ensign;Huro pries ' th'ip.ks. it necessary to Bay are very [graceful ani modest, and then he is led to his; teDtj the door of 1 which is, closed, that he >may r have an P'pp^?-, tunity in quietude of "forming, '[ some, conclusion as to on ;hfe head or his heels. „ Xodsp,. after three cheeks for *f Humpjirey,", n |hree cheers for. Cambridge University^, and. an nqmbe^ofocheerajfor tthihg«:;ib':'generali : thb enthusiastic crowd 'disperses, and the UniveWUyJaiidrthel 'tficMiiis ttVe'?4ef#<t\>< : congratulate their comredoi ' J yy>-'-Zy