play chess at 10, and quit before I was 17 years of age to engage in the battle of life. I had everything I could find on the subject of chess, in all languages. I edited a chess column at 15, and knew most of the American players, many of whom contributed to my column. Forty-odd years having elapsed since then? I find myself interested again in the greatest of games.
By the way, why is it that we hear but little now of the Evan's Gambit, the most brilliant opening in the game? Yours truly,
- CAISSA.
———
NERVOUSNESS OF CHESS PLAYERS.
Mr. Marshall, like all expert chess players, is of a nervous temperament, and this fact was noticeable especially when the visitor was playing many games at one time. While standing at the table considering his move, although his mind would have only the impression of the game before him, his feet would shuffle uneasily and his fingers beat an industrious tattoo on the edges of the board. It was also observed that he smoked incessantly, and while smoking would chew savagely at the end of his cigar or cigarette. One of the club members spoke to Mr. Marshall and asked him how it was that all the great chess players were so highly strung. The master smiled and replied, "I don't know, unless the hard work the brain is given to do puts the nerves on edge, and sends them twitch- ing all unconsciously."
Mr. Marshall, speaking further on the subject, said that all the well-known masters were very nervous while at play. Tschigorin, the Russian master, has a way of swinging his right foot slowly to and fro across his left leg like a pendulum. His foot goes by the hour, with never a rest, and when the Russian is losing or in a very tight place his foot goes furiously.
Pillsbury, Mr. Marshall said, had a way of working his eyes when at play in a tournament. The skin on the sides of his face is full of wrinkles from the eye twitching.
Janowski shakes his legs, his feet remaining firm on the floor, and at times, when excited, he knocks his knees together. Fox, when at play, moves both his feet. and kicks his heels, and Dr. Laskcr has a way of crossing his legs and gently swaying one foot.—New Orleans Picayune.
———
CHESSLETS.
Post mortems are the Maud Mullers of chess.
Some play chess with their hands. They can be identified by the usual remark: "Let's do that and see what he does."
An unsatisfactory man to play against is he who is never defeated without losing his temper; he wants to bet that it cannot be done again; he immediately wants to play a match; he can win every game he plays against that particular opponent; he ends by cooling down and tries again with the same result.
Not less unsatisfactory is the man who, when defeated, is anxious to point out how it could have been done in fewer number of moves; how little the winner knows about chess anyway; how he lost by not playing a different move at a critical place, and when that move is demonstrated to lose also, how he hadn't played the variation as carefully as he would if he had tried it during the game, etc., etc.
To offset these is the man who plays the gentlemanly game. He loses with unruffled mien. If he wins he delights in analyzing the better positions of the game, even demonstrating where the loser might have improved his play. He smilingly denies the assertions of his opponent that he won by greater skill. He is the builder of chess clubs, the creator of interest of amateurs, the persona grata whom mankind delight to meet everywhere.
———
FIREMEN AND CHESS.
Why is it that firemen do not play chess? They certainly have the time, but it seems that chess has never been introduced among them. In every en
