Life — April 5, 1883 — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MR. JACOBS. [By the author of “ Messrs. Abrahams and Isaacs,” ‘The Lost Tribes,” ‘* An 'Ebrew Jew," ete., etc.) CHAPTER III. THE FUTBHAWL MATCH, ISS PICKALILLY JUGGERNAUT, the niece of Muli- gatawney Tulip, the genial.red-faced nabob of Bramapootra, was one of those typical English beauties with a Du Maurier profile and the form of a Diana, who tip the scale at two bundred —say two hundred ; and if their conversation could only be weighed with their bodies, they would double the figure easily. She was an excellent horsewoman, and at the amateur circus performance in Bombay, where she figured as the chief equestri- “enne, I had seen her execute many daring feats of bare-back riding, leaping through paper hoops, circles of flame, etc. She had a kind heart, and I once went so far as to fancy that if she had intellect enough to fall in love with a man who had got the transcendental philosophy down cold. Bah! Love Paul Priggs! Thank heaven, no woman ever did. Selah! Bismillah! But, on the morning following my interview with Jacobs, I had agreed to escort Miss Juggernaut to the Bogley Wallow athletic grounds to witness the favorite Hindu game of futbhawl, We arrived upon the ground a few minutes late, and found the match already in progress, and a most picturesque and stirring scene it was. The players, dressed in heavy suits of mail and further protected against injury by large shields of wicker covered with bull's hide, moved slowly and gracefully about the field, deploying or massing in figures of great complexity, and now and then getting in a kick on the ball. Jacobs alone scorned to wear armor, He was arrayed in a simple camel-hair garment, covered with the pomegranate pattern, and his noble shins were bare to the kicks of the foe. ‘Too rash, too rash,” I muttered to myself. “ What is too rash, Mr. Priggs ?” inquired my fair companion. I gave her an evasive answer, and continued to watch my friend's movements with many dark forcbodings. I will not describe the game, which was like all other futbhawl games, For a technical account of it read the Sun's report of the last Yale-Princeton match—or indeed any account of any match. They are all alike. I had telegraphed to the Boomerang to have a special reporter present. I cannot be interrupted in my contemplation of the categories of the understanding by anything so subject to the pure forms of sense perception as the phenomena of a futbhawl game; nevertheless, I occasionally made an effort to explain the rules to Miss Juggernaut, using for the purpose formulz of the differential calculus. But I could make no impression on her somewhat obtuse mind. ‘Why don’t they kick the ball?" she would ask, with child- like simplicity. “My dear Miss Juggernaut,” I would answer, “let X equal the distance from the home goal to the centre of the solid spheroid vhich represents ——” ‘* Nonsense !’" she broke in. *' I will do no such thing !" But suddenly she gave a piercing scream, “Oh, heavens !" she cried, “he will be killed ! Save him ! save him !" With a single glance, my rapid mind took in the situation. Among the rushahs—as they are called by the Mahrattas, who invented this game—of the party opposed to Jacobs was youn; Lord Fitzflaherty, an English peer of pure Norman-Celtic bloods who stood seven feet in his stockings and weighed even more than Miss Juggernaut. He had made an imposing figure in the ame, and I had seen my companion’s eyes glancing repeatedly rom him to Jacobs and back again with a look of puzzled uncer- tainty, as if asking herself,‘ Which?” With the delicate intui- tion of my sex, I had at once divined that the two were rivals for her affections. Fate now decided between them. In a crisis of the match they had come into violent collision, For an instant they tottered to and fro, and then, with a dull, sickening thud, Jacobs fell upon the turf and Lord Fitzflaherty’s gigantic figure fell across him. A wild yell arose from all quarters of the field, and as quickly as their heavy armor would allow them, all the - LIFE: A victim of Whose pose was his sole occupation, Was shocked at the brass Of a girl in his class, And nearly expired with vexation. pee on both sides—rushaks, half-back, quarter-backs, goal- keepers, all walked ponderously across the grass and threw them- selves in a pile upon the prostrate bodies of the rivals. Once down, it was impossible for them to rise. Several tons of human flesh ‘and galvanized iron lay upon my unhappy friend. With lightning rapidity, I sped to the rescue ; but, swift as I was, love was swifter, Miss Juggernaut was there before me. With a quick, splendid motion she threw the mail-clad warriors, one after another, aside, and in three minutes had come to the bottom of the heap. Jacobs lay perfectly still. ‘*O, he is dead !" she cried wildly, and letting down her back hair with a sudden turn of her wnist, she prepared to fall upon the lifeless corpse and strain the col passive bosom toher beating heart. But I interposed gently though firmly, reminding her that he had already been subjected to high pressure, and that the added superincumbence of two hundred pounds of British female could hardly have a good effect. At this moment Jacobs moved; he stirred, sat up, and looked about him with a be- wildered expression, Then, suddenly jumping to his feet, he tushed madly toward the centre of the field. . “* Poor fellow,"’ murmured Lord Fitzflaherty, who had been set upon his legs ‘by the attendants, “his reason is impaired.” But suddenly his expression changed to one of eager alarm and dismay. “Ha!” he cried, ‘‘ the ball! the ball.” At the same moment a loud yell arose from the spectators who lined the field, All eyes were riveted upon the pig-skin spheroid which reposed gently on the sod, solitary, ungarded, and toward which Jacobs made his way. The players of the opposition were helpless. Some of them still lay on the earth unable to move; others who had been stood upon their feet were impeded by their mail, Jacobs reached the ball, seized it, ran with it toward the enemies’ goal, kicked it with one supreme effort high in air and, midway between the posts, turned, amid deafening plaudits and cries of ‘A goal! a goal!” kissed’ his hand gracefully to Miss uggernaut and then fell in a swoon tothe ground. At this same instant the object of his passion gave one piercing shriek and fainted at the opposite end of the grounds. “Poor things,” I muttered, ‘‘ How they love! Peace be with them |” A pad elephant was at once sent for to carry Miss Juggernaut home, and meanwhile the servants lifted Jacobs into a palanquin and bore him by my orders to iy own apartment. I laid my poor friend carefully upon the floor, and calmly rolling a cigarette, comicbooks.com