country they had left, the remembrance of which is always fondly cherished by the immigrant during the first few years of his expatriation.
Collar Grinning.
Amongst the obsolete amusements of Old England was a contortion contest known as "grinning" for a wager, and an ancient chronicle records that on Whit Tuesday (9th June, of 1786) a grand grinning match for a gold-laced hat came off at Hendon, in Middlesex. Six competitors were ranged on a platform, over which waved a banner thus inscribed in large capital letters:—
"Detur Tetriori; Or
The Ugliest Grinner
Shall be the Winner."
Each individual was supplied with a horse collar, through which he was to perform. A solo of five minutes' facial distortion was to be executed seriatim, and then all were to join in a grinning chorus. The prize was won by an employé of a vinegar merchant, though he was accused of a foul, in consequence of having, just before the exhibition, rinsed his mouth with verjuice, whereby the dilated orifice would be rendered more hideous. There could be as little unfair play in so doing, one would imagine, as in a jockey artificially sweating down to a required light weight, or other preliminary training for any muscular competition. However, at the conclusion of the day's racing, the edifying scene of grinning through a horse collar was publicly witnessed for the first, and I believe, the last time in the colony.
As the assemblage was on the point of dispersing, some humorous customer, in a happy moment of swipy inspiration, suggested as a suitable afterpiece to the billed programme, that a grinning match be extemporized. Though there was no golden decked bell-topper for a guerdon, a hat was pressed into the service, and taken round to receive the contributions of the crowd. Silver coinage amounting to about forty shillings was soon dropped in, an inducement which quickly brought to the scratch four or five of the ugliest mugged fellows of the small community. The Grand Stand was to be the convincing ground. The equipments were borrowed without much difficulty, and a huge ticket-of-leave holder, afterwards well-known as Big Mick," was, by common consent, appointed master of the ceremonies. He mounted the shaky, drop-like contrivance, and with the apparatus under his arm, looked as hangmanish as a "Jack Ketch," at an execution. When the competing team turned out, the favourite (decidedly the most ill-favoured), was found in the person of Thomas Curnew, about fifty years of age, and a carpenter by trade. Though he had not much hair, the crop was rugged and red, and so pronounced in colour as to make him appear skull-capped in fire. His mouth was a spheroid, slightly twisted, and his laugh was in itself, a whole grin, set off by an enormous set of tusky teeth. Divesting himself of a seedy peajacket, he was the first on board, and facing the populace, made such a frightfully wry face as cowed all opposition, and secured for him the distinction of a walk, or rather, grin over. "Big Mick," in a quick, business manner, adjusted the collar by arranging it on the other's head with as much painstaking as a modiste would evince in fitting a new bonnet, and shaking him by the hand, wished him luck, and jumped down. The "phizical" pantomime then commenced, and for ten minutes there was a display of physiognomical posturing, difficult to be accounted for by any deductions of anatomization. The bones, muscles, sinews, and tissues of Curnew's head seemed as if composed of whalebone and India-rubber. At one time his tongue looked as if jumping out of his mouth, his lips and palate would be drawn in as if about to be swallowed, whilst the chin and forehead approached as if to meet. His antics evoked thunders of acclamation, in the midst of which he regained terra firma, secured the proceeds of the hat-shaking, and betook himself to the Fawknerian booth, where the stakes were speedily melted down through the agency of a "fire-water."
And so wound up the first public race day in Victoria.
