path: root/50147-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50147 ***

Transcriber’s Note


In this text version of “Beaver”:
  words in italics are marked with _underscores_,
  words in bold are marked with =equals signs=,
  words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE,
  handwritten words are marked with +plus signs+, and
  crossed out words are marked with *asterisks*.


Each illustration of a beard originally faced the beard’s description.
These have been moved to follow the title of the type of beard.

Footnotes have been moved to the end of the paragraph to which they
refer.

Variant spelling and inconsistent hyphenation are retained.

Minor changes have been made to make punctuation consistent.




     _With respectful affection to the illustrious memory of_
     SHAGPAT, _the son of_ SHIMPOOR, _the son of_ SHOOLPI, _the
     son of_ SHULLUM.




  BEAVER

  BY

  JOHN KETTELWELL

  _An Alphabet of typical Specimens, together with
  Notes and a terminal Essay on the Manners
  and Customs of Beavering Men_

  LONDON:

  T. WERNER LAURIE, LTD.

  30, NEW BRIDGE STREET, E.C. 4




A.

IS AN ADMIRAL-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Admiral-Beaver]

The specimen mounted is typical and the coat is good, harsh and not
silky, a common fault in these rough-haired examples.

An Admiral-King-Beaver is unthinkable ... “derogation of God’s honour,”
etc.

Though the sport is deservedly popular in the Service, it is attended
by infinite risk should the specimen be of higher rank than the
players. K. R. and A. I. contain no definite ruling as to the legality
or otherwise of the game, but a Court-Martial would probably trip an
unlucky player on “conduct to the prejudice,” etc.

In civil life (and plain clothes) it is most unusual to be able to
score these specimens, hence the different values of Rear-Admirals,
Vice-Admirals, etc., is not given, nor those of the various branches of
the Service, Executive, Engineer, and the like.




B.

IS A BALD-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Bald-King-Beaver]

That depicted is a magnificent specimen in full winter-coat.

They are not common, but occur frequently--the apparent paradox is
explained by the fact that they are usually of an extremely retiring
nature, and reside by choice in coigns and nooks.

For a specimen such as that mounted game should be claimed and nothing
under three points accepted; rather call off the match and communicate
with the Association.

In scoring really fine specimens in full winter-coat extra points can,
and should be, claimed for purity of tint, bushiness, etc.




C.

IS A CENTAUR-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Centaur-King-Beaver]

There is no record of a specimen being scored. Probably the last
person to do so may have been Jason. The best authorities assume this,
adducing as contributory evidence his later, passionate quest of the
Golden Fleece. Ourselves we regard it as more likely that Chiron was
never scored, Jason being held back by the natural delicacy of one
_in statu pupillari_. In fact, Chiron was, almost certainly, a “local
double-fault.”




D.

IS A DOUBLE-FAULT.


[Illustration: Double-Fault]

This question is dealt with in the terminal essay.

The specimen is a good one, and no player who is deceived by a growth
of this kind need feel the smallest depression. It is the kind of thing
that might happen to anyone.

A young specimen, darker than dark brindle, has, I believe, never been
scored.




E.

IS AN ECCLESIASTICAL-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Ecclesiastical-King-Beaver]

Rare in general, there are frequently to be found in Cathedral cities
large coveys, not very strong on the wing.

Local rules should be consulted as to the scoring. Fine specimens count
at least three points.

I myself, recently, claimed an Ecclesiastical-King, in a country town,
and was awarded two games for it; a well-known local rarity of which
the place is justly proud.

It was a superb specimen, in good coat, a darkish brindle, and in
official robes.




F.

IS A FRINGED-GEORGIC-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Fringed-Georgic-Beaver]

The species is less common than formerly. Some purists refuse to score
these Fringed-Georgics on the plea that the upper lip is bare and the
_chin_ partially bare and that they are, therefore, double-faults. The
general ruling is that as the adornment _circumnavigates_ the face the
chin is not bare, the bareness of the upper lip is immaterial and the
specimen should be scored; one point in the country, three points in
London.




G.

IS A GALLIC-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration Gallic-King-Beaver]

The game is almost unplayable in France. Owing to the superabundance of
specimens only rarities should be scored.

A report has just been received from Cap D’Antibes of a “magnificent
Wasp-Waisted-King.” Game was called. No information was sent
(correspondents are deplorably slack) as to colour or coat.

Good players, in France, lay great stress on minute differences in
colour and characteristic, _i.e._, crimped, curled, waved, rat-tail,
wuzzy, wild-garden, etc.




H.

IS A HALF-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Half-Beaver]

These delightful specimens are now, unhappily, becoming very rare.

They are still occasionally scored in the neighbourhood of places of
worship and on the seashore.

Some claim increased points in ratio to the length of the upper lip.

The specimen mounted (Stockton-on-Tees, 1919), is a fine one,
exhibiting all the marked features of the _genus_, including a most
gratifying labial expanse.




I.

IS AN IMPERIAL-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Imperial-Beaver]

Not common in England; when scored in this country are almost
invariably migrants.

These amusing specimens are, curiously enough, commoner in winter-coat
than in ordinary plumage.

There are no tricks about scoring an Imperial. Any specimen with
moustache and a growth beneath the lower lip, of which the parent area
does not extend to the lower edge of the chin, is an Imperial.

Score three points for a Full-Black; one point for a White.




J.

IS A JOO BEAVER.


[Illustration: Joo Beaver]

These exotics are fairly common, and local sportsmen can be relied
upon to flush a few on short notice, provided that they are allowed to
choose the beat.

In many ways curiously attractive, the charm of the species is marred
by the frequent lack of neatness of plumage; as a race they incline to
landscape-gardening with their hirsuteness.

Carefully note their musical cry of “Oy-Yoy ... Oy Yoy.” A specimen in
full song, when the moon is full, counts game.

Some experts have a very nice scale--by which they score--of the
curvilinear bill. This is a pretty point and a pleasant _raffinement_,
but too subtle for the ordinary week-end player. Of course any
unusually fine frontal curve should be claimed and scored as a rarity.




K.

IS A KILLINGWORTH-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Killingworth-Beaver]

This specimen is mounted for instructional purposes only. Connoisseurs
and collectors are, of course, entirely _au fait_ with the
deliciousness of this gorgeous creature.

George Killingworth, in the year 1555, was sent to the court of Ivan
the Terrible (one of the many monarchs who have, from time to time,
taxed Beavers) as the agent of Queen Mary. His beard was five feet
two inches in length and it was yellow. He was without doubt the most
flawless specimen of a Yellow-King ever seen.

It is considered in the highest degree unlikely that anything
approaching this efflorescence will be noted nowadays, hence no score
is suggested.




L.

IS A LICKED-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Licked-Beaver]

It is worthy of remark in passing that this distinguishing title is due
to the genius of a child--“trailing clouds,” etc.--who, on observing
the first specimen ever scored, cried, “Oh, look; he’s licked it.”

The species is very rare. Off-shoots of the old stock, in the form
of Semi-Walruses, are occasionally observed, but the Licked-Beaver
is generally regarded as almost extinct. Possibly the cause of this
diminution, if not extinction, may be the increase in the cost of
living.

The specimen mounted is a very fine one. Should a player have the good
fortune to score a Licked-Beaver, let him remember that it is the
density of the licking, the spear-form, the sharpness, that should be
regarded rather than the length of the portion licked.




M.

IS A MANDARIN-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Mandarin-Beaver]

Even in plain clothes should score two games if seen in England. There
is no ruling as to the points to be scored if observed in this country
in full plumage.

This specimen is often wrongly catalogued in books of reference as a
Mandarin-King-Beaver. Royalty or Kinghood is impossible for a species
which supports a very notable gap between its central adornment and the
maxillary-fringes.

The specimen mounted is, so to say, traditional, that is, it is a
transcript of an early-nineteenth century Chinese brush-drawing on silk
in Chinese ink representing a hero, or as we should say, a Beaver.




N.

IS A NANNY-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Nanny-Beaver]

Really good specimens are very rare. They are reported to flourish in
the Eastern farming states of the United States of America, but British
research is lamentably behindhand, and our exact knowledge is quite
fragmentary.

In any case there is one simple rule for the guidance of the _amateur_;
no Nanny-Beaver can be claimed or scored of which the adornment does
not depend a full two inches from the under-surface of the chin.




O.

IS AN ORIENTAL-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Oriental-Beaver]

These strangely beautiful specimens are rarely seen in this cold
country.

Those who have had the privilege of observing closely a gaggle of
Orientals in indigenous plumage (the species is pathetically subject to
local changes) will, assuredly, ever prize the recollection.

The most noteworthy feature, apart from the extraordinarily fine
quality of coat (glossiness, sheen, etc.), is the exotic parting
which lends a wistful charm to the otherwise opulent glories of these
occasional visitors.

Score always two games (in England); set, if the specimen is in
indigenous plumage.




P.

IS A PARTI-COLOUR-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Parti-Colour-Beaver]

These specimens are curiously attractive and are more often scored than
one would think. Artists, above all others, wax well-nigh lyrical over
the beauties of a well-defined Parti-Colour, one, that is, in which
there is almost no shading, the black being black and the white, white.
The same colouration is observed in the pelt of the Colobus monkey and
justly admired.

It is not possible to distinguish between natural and artificial
Parti-Colours, unless one should happen to be a relative of the
specimen. All Parti-Colours are, therefore, scored. (Two points.)




Q.

IS A QUEEN-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Queen-Beaver]

It has been objected that it is not gallant to score these undoubted
rarities. Theoretically it is, certainly, not pretty conduct, but, on
the other hand, all is fair in love and war, and ... has any man ever
refused to shoot a rhinoceros on the plea that it was a female? (I
merely ask ... someone may have done so. There may even be a close time
for doe-rhinoes.) Be that as it may, the scoring of Queens is an affair
of lineage. Regard this eighteenth century distich:--

    “Here is a Pink-Queen, very rare,
    Remember to count the sixteenth hair.”[1]

Queens are always scored extravagantly. Usually game; extra-rarities
two games, and so on. The Pink-Queen is, without doubt, the rarest of
her kind; conversely, when found, she is usually a superb specimen, in
rich coat. The question of Queens is dealt with broadly in the terminal
essay.

[Footnote 1: Queens cannot be scored unless they have _more_ than
fifteen hairs.]




R.

IS A RED-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Red-King-Beaver]

I feel a very natural emotion on commenting on the sublime specimen
of the Red-King, the ultimate hope of every keen collector, which
is portrayed on the opposite page. Observed outside “The Goose and
Gridiron,” in Slogsby-under-Hill, this noble creature deprived both my
companion (an ex-local champion) and myself of speech for three minutes.

Had he been carrying a ladder (the _ne-plus-ultra_ of Beaverhood) we
had never recovered from the glory of the revelation.

Red-Kings score “Game, set, match.” A Red-King on a green bicycle,
carrying a lanthorn (or lantern), scores do. do. “Local Championship.”
A Red-King on a green bicycle carrying a ladder (poor old Pelion!) has
never, alas! been reported up to the present.

There are dreams of scoring a Red-King, complete with fitments, on a
High Bicycle ... all things are possible, even a ravishment such as
that.




S.

IS A SANTA-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Santa-Beaver]

These are usually scored, though your conscientious expert demurs at so
doing, as it has been held--and the view is well supported by players
of repute--that they are strictly-speaking Double-Faults, the adornment
being temporary.

The genuine Santa-King-Beaver, complete with reindeer, sleigh and
business with chimney, has never, I believe, been scored.

Claim a game if you, a stranger adult, score one.




T.

IS A TUFTED-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Tufted-King-Beaver]

It may, perhaps, be thought that this is a fanciful, a pernickety
differentiation--such are to be deplored--but there is a very
distinct species of Beaver--King or ordinary--having these marked
characteristics, and the best players invariably claim a Tufted, and
two points, if they have the luck to espy a specimen such as that
depicted.

The points to look for are the three patches of foliage in centre
forehead and over either ear. The chin-growth partakes of the nature of
these, but it is the _tufted temple_ which makes your rarity.

In the last century this sub-branch of the genus Longi-Florum was
fairly common; sub-title, Adolphus.




U.

IS AN URSINE-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Ursine-Beaver]

The specimen mounted is, I believe, unique. A noted scientist in
private life, in public life an exquisite Ursine--or (as some say)
Leonine--there are no _data_ extant to assist us in forming an opinion
as to why he did it.

It is scarcely likely that this phenomenon will flower again for
centuries. Should a pale reflection be observed, remember that the
salient points are: (a.) great width across the cheek-bones, (b.)
uniformity of foliage.

The miracle mounted opposite had tendrils, delicate, wonderful, almost
on the lower edge of the eye-lids.

The osseous formation of the nasal promonotory should be carefully
studied by earnest _amateurs_.




V.

IS A VAN DYCK-BEAVER.


[Illustration Van Dyck-Beaver]

Mounted as an historical curiosity: they are now extinct.

In full bloom they were, I am told, very beautiful. The finest
specimens had _never_ shaved, hence the coat was a miracle of gloss,
softness, shimmer and silk.

Should anything, _anything_ approaching this shape be observed, kindly
write at once to the Association, who are only too anxious to catalogue
every rarity.

Disregard cropped hair. One dare not hope for a modern specimen in
trailing-coat.




W.

IS A WALRUS.


[Illustration: Walrus]

These cannot be scored when playing Beaver.

A debased form of the game called “Walrus” is--actually--played, and,
occasionally, mixed Walrus and Beaver. The Walrus game usually ends in
an unseemly wrangle, owing to the intense difficulty in deciding on the
exact status of the specimen.

The specimen mounted is almost perfect--perhaps it is a thought
regular--it was observed in 1922 in Knightsbridge; the neat bow-tie was
pale blue satin, almost certainly attached by a brass clip.




X.

IS A XANTHINE-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Xanthine-King-Beaver]

These specimens are only scored by specialists.

There is a perfectly distinct difference between a Xanthine, a Red
and a Yellow, but it is very small, and to mark it requires a very
nicely-trained eye. Xanthines are usually rather bewildered-looking,
and are remarkable, in general, for profusion of crop and coarseness of
coat.

The habit of insisting on minute colour-niceties is to be deplored as
tending to debase the sport to the level of the philatelist’s “rose-red
on carmine,” “carmine on rose-red.”




Y.

IS A YELLOW-KING.


[Illustration: Yellow-King]

Excessively rare.

With the exception of George Killingworth, cited on page 25, the
most notable Yellow-King of whom we have record is Leo Vincey, the
superlative Beaver who went, in company with his dark-brindle guardian,
Mr. Holly, in search of “She” ... or should it be “Her”?

There is no record in office of a Yellow-King having been scored in the
last eleven years. They are seen occasionally in France, and there are
vague rumours that a certain number are bagged yearly in Germany.

Claim extravagant points if you have the fortune to light upon one.
Here again sheen is most important, and the coat should be fine, soft
and silky.




Z.

IS A ZEBRA-KING-BEAVER.


[Illustration: Zebra-King-Beaver]

Excessively rare.

I, myself, have once scored a Zebra-King, but it was, and is, the only
specimen of which I have heard, and it is greatly prized locally.

The colour-demarcation must be very obvious before one can claim a
Zebra. There is as much difference between a Yellow and a Red-King as
there is between a Zebra and a Brindle.

The King illustrated is--I speak without fear of being
contradicted--literally unique. In superb coat, ideal shape of
attachment, in colour--a greenish tabby with dark markings, the Zebra
I have the pleasure of showing you represents the _ne-plus-ultra_ of
rarity.

He thus forms a fitting, as it were, _cul-de-lampe_ to my “littel”
guide.




TERMINAL ESSAY ON THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF BEAVERING MEN.


Proem.

Adam, according to tradition, was created in full King-Beaverhood, and,
burgeoning amid the bougainvillea and borage of the Garden of Eden,
the Beard, throughout the centuries, has bloomed and faded, resurged,
again faded, then blossomed anew that, in the fullness of time, the
Beard-Bearer might be crowned with the honourable title of Beaver.
“The soft susurrus of his silken stride” brings joy to the heart of
man, perhaps also “game, set, match,” and the shape, the colour, the
texture of his adornment provoke a fastidious scrutiny akin to that of
a connoisseur appraising a Crown Derby figurine. For many years the
auburn-haired hero who grew a beard was not, _ipso facto_, a person of
any importance. A dignitary of the Church, whose venerable features
were complemented or obscured by a snowy, a grizzled or a brindled
beard of majestic length, was not, inherently, remarkable. Behold them
now, a Red-King and an Ecclesiastical King, cynosures, orchids upon
the unlovely tree-trunk of our common life. As the poet might have
written:--

    Beaver, beaver, burning bright,
    In what forest of the night,
    What immortal hand or eye
    Could frame thy xanthine symmetry?


The Beaver in History.

The celebrated Beavers of history need not be catalogued at length.
Shakespeare was a Bald-Beaver, apparently an Anticipatory-Vandyke.
Napoleon Bonaparte was not a Beaver. Julius Cæsar, Edward Gibbon, Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Alexander VI. and Beethoven did all “... against the
edicts of God, the oracles of the Prophets, the placits of councils
and the judgment of learned men, hold fast the foolish custom of
shaving.”[2] Contrariwise, Hannibal, William Morris, Rodin, St.
Paul and Juan Rodriguez de Silva y Vélasquez were all content with
“nourishing their horrid bushes of vanity.”[3] The Jews bore their
beards proudly from out the Captivity. Indeed they took captivity
captive; did not the Egyptians from time to time, asserting their
masculinity, assume ceremonial false beards, “double faults” to a man?
The most antient Romans were King-Beavers; the Normans were Walruses;
the Greeks supported a considerable number of King-Beavers, among them
Pericles and Socrates, “shaving was very rare in the early part of our
period (440 B.C.–330 B.C.).”[4] Until the eighteenth century Beaverhood
was common, since that time it has grown rarer and rarer, with a sudden
uprush of fur to the face in the middle of the last century, an uprush
which has now almost died away. We read “... the value of their fur
has caused their destruction in great measure where they were once
numerous, and has led to their extirpation where there is evidence that
they existed as a not uncommon animal. They were formerly distributed
over the greater part of Europe. In England semi-fossilised remains
show that they were not uncommon ... in 1188 Giraldus stated that they
were living on the river Teify in Cardiganshire ... some were known to
frequent the Elbe in 1878.”[5]

[Footnote 2: Bulwer. _Anthropometamorphosis_ (1650).]

[Footnote 3: Dr. Bolton.]

[Footnote 4: Tucker, _Life in Ancient Athens_, p. 83.]

[Footnote 5: _Living Animals of the World_, vol. I., p. 152 _et seq._
_Parts of this extract are not clear. What value has the pelt of the
Red-King commercially? Can a tippet be made of the adornment of the
Fringed-Georgic?_]


THE GAME.

Origin.

The origin of the game, which is scored in exactly the same manner as
Lawn Tennis, is unknown. There are, however, various theories; one
school holds that it came to birth in Oxford, another that it emerged
in the other place, and a third traces it to Malta (where “my brother
from Gozo” was, doubtless, a local champion) and seeks for some
association with antient mysteries.

The outlines of the game itself are so simple and well-defined that the
question of rules scarcely arises. A bearded man is a Beaver, claim
him, crying aloud, as musically as possible, “Beaver, fifteen love”--or
appropriately to the score. If both players cry aloud simultaneously it
is a “no-ball.”


Double Faults.

The system of “double faults” deserves explanation. The educational
value of the game is high, fostering as it does quickness of
observation and that desirable attribute, an eagle-glance. When a
player has had some little practice he will often score winning points
from behind the specimen. Thus a side-whiskered gentleman may be
claimed from the rear but, on drawing level with the quarry, it is
observed that the chin is bare ... double fault.


Local Double Faults.

“Local double faults” are always a matter of courtesy, and if one
claims a “local D. F.” one is not mulcted in the point. Usually it
is some revered and Friend-of-all-the-World Beaver who is created,
by general consent, a “local D. F.,” to enable players to discuss,
unembarrassed, the day’s sport with him. Juvenile players find this
convention of the greatest possible service. Hot-tempered, hard-handed
uncles and such like are swiftly appeased by being made “local D. F.s,”
and join whole-heartedly in the triumph occasioned by the capture of
some other Brindled-King.


Status of Beaver.

It has been mentioned in the notes that very high standards have been
from time to time set up as regards the status of Beaver. Passionate
purists have, indeed, claimed that the charming Half-Beaver is a D. F.,
that the delicate wilding, the Fringed-Georgic, is a D. F., even that
the Imperial and the Nanny are suspect. Heed not such persons. Remember
Knut and Mrs. Partington, nor seek to gild the lily. The sign manual
of the Beaver is the not-naked chin, ἂγυμνος. No one of the specimens
mentioned above has a naked chin, therefore, they are all Beavers;
_quod erat demonstrandum_.


Hints as to Habitat.

The game can be played anywhere, except in Burithabeth, for “these men
have no beards at all, for we saw them carry a certain iron instrument
in their hands wherewith, if any hairs grow upon their chin, they
presently pluck them out.”[6] Cathedral cities are a favourite habitat
of the _genus_, and some are always to be found in the neighbourhood
of Pall Mall. Dockyard towns provide large numbers of the ordinary
variety, but very few Kings.

[Footnote 6: Mandeville.]


Single-handed Beaver.

It is not generally known that a rigidly conscientious person can play
single-handed Beaver with great content. One scores Beavers walking in
the same direction as oneself to the server, Beavers coming from that
direction, and so passing the player, to the striker and stationary
Beavers in accordance with the direction in which their heads are
turned, towards or away from the player. Beavers debouching suddenly
from cross-roads, if one has not time, as on a swift omnibus, to
observe their ultimate direction, are “no-balls.”


Objections to the Game.

It has been objected that the game is nonsensical, anti-social and
essentially discourteous. Nonsensical it is, an it please you; but
is not nonsense a rare and a precious thing? Is not the nonsense of
Lewis Carroll quite entirely adorable? Is not Lear’s story of Violet,
Slingsby, Guy and Lionel a thing of impressive beauty? The game is not
anti-social, for it entails an increased interest in and admiration of
one’s fellow-men and, as regards discourtesy, surely it is as much a
compliment to a Red-King to cry on him, “Beaver, game, set, match,” as
it is to comment upon some damsel’s handsome eyes.


The Beaver.

“Aristotle in his ethics takes up the conceit of the _Bever_,”[7]
and, in general, one may assume that the bearded are proud of their
adornments, love them, cherish them, even going so far in some cases
as to enclose them in silken bags before retiring to rest. Controversy
has long raged as to the propriety or otherwise of shaving. The Greek
Church held strong views on the point, “... and also they say, that
we sin deadly in shaving our beards, for the beard is token of a man,
and gift of our Lord.”[8] The antient Greeks, as we have observed, for
long clutched their hairiness, but finally succumbed to the Macedonian
mode, and shaved clean; it is an interesting point that they did
utterly abhor the Walrus. In England the matter has been entirely
regulated by fashion, and I cannot trace the existence of any important
body of opinion in favour of or against the practice of shaving. It
would, nevertheless, be safe to say that an immature Beaver in the
present year of grace is so rare as to be practically unknown--English
specimens are seldom lighter than medium-brindle--which shows the trend
of modern thought.

It may be accepted, then, that the Beaver indulges in efflorescence in
order to gratify his vanity (or in a few cases, perhaps, to keep his
throat warm and save the expense of cravats). Perhaps he remembers the
dictum, “_l’habit long et la barbe imposent de respect_.”[9] In which
connection it may be emphasised that the intense interest now taken in
fine specimens should be (and probably is) a source of considerable
gratification to them. I have even been told of one superb Red-King who
invariably congratulates the fortunate player who scores him.

[Footnote 7: Browne. _Pseudodoxia_, I., c. ix.]

[Footnote 8: Mandeville, c. iii.]

[Footnote 9: Voltaire, _Dict. Phil._]


Characteristics of various Species.

It is interesting to observe the very marked personal characteristics
of the various species. A Brindled-King-Beaver is commonly
distinguished by a dignified port and an air of profound weightiness.
In a Red-King something of wistful may be remarked, in a Xanthine
a touch, maybe, of bewilderment. Parti-colours are usually rather
bird-like (perhaps the unconscious influence of the wag-tail) and
Yellows are always pugnacious in appearance. The Fringed-Georgic smacks
of the soil, the Imperial of cafés with red velvet, the Bald-King of
the Reading-Room of the British Museum, the Tufted of antimaccassars
and bronze horrors wriggling under glass domes. But all, without
exception, carry an indefinable air of _exotisme_, a something that
raises them above the herd; they appear never natural products, always
“sports.”


The Queen-Beaver.

Of the Queen-Beaver it may be safely said that “the female of the
species is more deadly than the male.” A really fine Pink-Queen is
awe-inspiring, and a Grey-Queen infinitely terrifying. The dainty
Blonde-Queen (it is advisable to have two assessors, for the signs of
her beaverhood are “_plus follets, plus doux, plus imperceptibles_”[10]
than in any other species) has a sinister air; a Black-Queen suggests
“Macbeth.” It is curious to read that “in Cyprus the Goddess of Love
wore a beard.”[11] Queens are rare and no false gallantry should prevent
a player from scoring them whenever possible. It is, however, the mark
of the gentleman to claim them _sotto voce_, almost in a whisper.

[Footnote 10: Voltaire, _op. cit._]

[Footnote 11: Macrobius, _Saturn_, iii., 8.2.]


Personalia.

We have now examined the game briefly, investigated the
characteristics of the Beaver family, cast a rapid and perfunctory
glance at the Beaver in History (a subject deserving of a tome), and
suggested explanations that may be offered, a defence that may be
attempted, when a player is assailed by a non-player. “To beaver or not
to beaver, that is the question.” The decision must be taken; paltering
is no part of a man. Myself, I took it on the top of an omnibus outside
the Ritz, and I played a most excellent game with myself as far as St.
Mary Abbott’s.

Having set my hand to the plough I did not look back, but entered upon
the game in all seriousness. When Fortune appeared I did not give her
a chance to “present her bald noddle,” but I grabbed her firmly by the
forelock. Being from town I chanced upon a small _coterie_ of learned
enthusiasts, and much improved my game, as also my knowledge. The city
was a very warren of Beavers; most of my finest specimens were secured
there. Does not the mouth of every collector water on reading that I
scored--with two witnesses, one of whom viséd the prey--a glorious
Pink-Queen, leaning on a green bicycle outside the Post-Office? and,
subsequently, an American Grey-Queen with young? The only rarity,
roughly speaking, which eluded me was a fine Fringed-Georgic. I scored
a somewhat moth-eaten specimen of uncertain colouration. Thus, “on
stepping-stones of our dead” Beavers I attained to a certain skill.
It would have been impossible to choose a better place for my little
holiday, and my gratitude to my genial instructors and coaches knows no
bounds.

Local rules were well-framed, simple and reasonable. There are two
“local D. F.s,” easily recognisable, and a certain number of markedly
fine specimens which have great repute in the district and bear a
very high scoring-value. All unknowing I claimed and scored _the_
Ecclesiastical-King and was, instantly, awarded two games. It was, in
very truth, a noble creature, a Pointed-Brindle, which is, of course,
as rare and valuable as a pointed fox, in gorgeous coat and official
robes of a searching scarlet. I had the good fortune to secure also the
finest King in Full Winter-Coat that I have ever seen. The adornment
was almost incredibly bushy and “white as the neck of Lalage,” while
the specimen wore brown _suéde_ shoes. Heigh ho! for the brave days
that are dead. Golly, what a garland I wove me in that dear place.


Conclusion.

To what point are we come? Is the game of Beaver the expression of
a passionate mass-protest against the furred face, or is it the
forerunner of a revival of beards, that is, do we see here the shadow
of that antient custom which led peoples to sacrifice yearly the
animals who else were deities, whom they adored?[12] In any case the
Beard is again burgeoning. But a few years gone the bearded were not,
_qua_ beards, of any importance, now they loom upon the social horizon
considerably larger than a man’s hand. Of the importance of the Beard
it may well be that the apogee is upon us. Perchance the Beard will
again be invested with the dignity of ceremonial as in antient China.
“After the coffining,” so we read of the obsequies of an officer, “the
Master of the Ceremonies does away with his hair-tufts.”[13] Shall we
live to see the Beard exalted as an horn on high? Will the game of
Beaver re-instate the Beard as the Crimean campaign instituted the now
almost extinct (but exquisite) moustache-whisker fitment, or will it
drive the hairy to put off the whole armour of hairiness? _Quien sabe?_
These things remain, in the charming phrase of M. Cliché, “on the knees
of the gods,” but it is safe to assert that, even now, we can as a
people, we English, rebut the accusation of Samuel Butler, “we often do
not notice that a man has grown a beard.”[14]

[Footnote 12: _See_ Herodotus, ii., 42.]

[Footnote 13: Chou Kung, _The I-Li_, c. xxxi.]

[Footnote 14: Butler, _The Notebooks_, p. 311.]


_Printed in Great Britain by Miller, Son & Compy., Fakenham and
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