THE CUDGEL.
One remembers reading somewhere, I think in Bunyan's "Pilgrim's
Progress," of a certain "grievous crab-tree cudgel," and the impression
left by this description is that the weapon, gnarled and knotty, was
capable of inflicting grievous bodily harm.
Any thick stick under two feet long, such as a watchman's staff or a
policeman's truncheon, may be fairly called a cudgel, and it is not so
long ago that cudgel-play formed one of the chief attractions at country
fairs in many parts of England.
A stage was erected, and the young fellows of the neighbourhood were
wont to try conclusions with their friends or those celebrities from
more distant parts of the country who were anxious to lower their
colours.
The game was at times pretty rough, and the object of each combatant was
to break the skin on the scalp or forehead of his antagonist, _so as to
cause blood to flow_. As soon as the little red stream was seen to
trickle down the face of one or other the battle was at an end, and the
man who was successful in drawing first blood was declared the victor.
Similarly, German students, squabbling over love affairs or other
trivial matters, fight with a long sort of foil, which has a very short
lancet blade at the extreme point. Their object, like our old
cudgel-players, is to draw first blood, only our Teutonic cousins, in
drawing the blood, often lop off their friends' noses or slit open their
cheeks from ear to mouth.
There is a great similarity in these two games, because in each the
head, and the head alone, is the object aimed at. In the one case the
defeated party went away with a pretty severe bump on his head, and in
the other he hies him to a surgeon to have his nose fixed on, or his
cheek stitched up with silver wire.
I have never been fortunate enough to witness a bout with the cudgels,
but those who have been more lucky say that the combatants stood very
close to each other, making all the hits nearly straight on to the top
of their adversaries' heads, and guarding the returns and attacks with
their cudgels and with their left arms.
Considering the cudgel as a modern weapon, I am inclined to advocate its
use for prodding an enemy in the pit of the stomach, for, with the extra
eighteen inches or so of reach which your cudgel gives you, it is likely
that you may get your thrust well home, at any rate before the opponent
can hit you with his fist. Many of us know what a blow on the "mark"
with the naked fist will do. Well, the area of the knuckles is very much
greater than the area of the end of even a very stout stick, so that, if
you can put anything like the same force into the thrust that you can
into the blow, you will bring a smaller area to bear on a vital point,
and consequently work on that point with greater effect.
A grievous crab-tree (or blackthorn) cudgel, with two or three ounces of
lead let into one end, is a good thing to have under your pillow at
night. Armed with this instrument, you can steal up behind your burglar
whilst he is opening your wife's jewel case or bagging your favourite
gold snuff-box; but don't get excited about it, and remember to hit his
head rather on the _sides_ than on the back or front.
Some authorities advocate "life-preservers," but later on I hope to
give my reasons for not caring much about this combination of lead and
cane.
THE SHILLALAH.
In Ireland they were formerly very partial to the use of the shillalah,
and even to this day there is a little bit of fun in this line to be
seen at most of the fairs.
The shillalah proper is about four feet long and is usually made of
blackthorn, oak, ash, or hazel; and it is a great point to get it
uniform in thickness and in weight throughout its entire length. It is
held somewhere about eight inches or so from the centre, and my
countrymen, who are always pretty active on their pins when fighting,
use their left forearms to protect the left side of their heads.
It is extraordinary what a lot of knocking about a sturdy Irishman can
put up with, and what whacks he can receive on the head without any
apparent damage. One cannot help thinking that the Celtic skull must be
thicker than the Saxon. The brains in the former are certainly more
capable than those in the latter of producing brilliant and amusing, if
incorrect, ideas and expressions. The history of the Emerald Isle swarms
with Boyle-Rocheisms as the country itself has long been said to swarm
with absentee landlords.
After a certain fair, where the whisky and the whacks had contended
pretty severely for the first place as regards strength, a certain Paddy
was found lying, as Mrs. Malaprop would say, "in a state of como," in a
ditch hard by the scene of conflict. A friend solicitous, and fearing
the worst, said, "Och, Paddy, what ails ye? Are ye dead?" A feeble voice
replied, "Ochone, no, Jack. I'm not dead, but I'm spacheless."
The length of the shillalah gives it a great advantage over a shorter
stick, for, when held about a third of its length from the end, the
shorter portion serves to guard the right side of the head and the right
forearm. Indeed, the definition of the quarter-staff, given at the
commencement of Chapter II., seems to me to apply far better to the
shillalah, which may in a sense be regarded as the link between the
ordinary walking-stick and the mighty weapon which Robin Hood wielded so
deftly in his combat with Little John.
The use of the point is almost unknown in Irish conflicts. My countrymen
twirl their shillalahs above their heads with a whirring noise, and
endeavour to knock off their opponents' hats so as to get at their
heads. Then begins the fun of the fair--all is slashing and whacking,
and the hardest skull generally comes off the best. Sometimes a great
deal of skill is displayed, and I often wonder whether a really expert
swordsman would be much more than a match for some quick, strong, Kerry
boys I could pick out. Be it remembered, a swordsman invariably keeps
his left hand behind his back, whilst an Irishman nearly always makes
his left forearm the guard for the left side of his head, and so has
more scope for hitting than he would otherwise have. One is here
reminded of the conflict between Fitz-James and the Highland Chieftain,
Roderick Dhu:--
"Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu,
That on the field his targe he threw,
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide
Had death so often dashed aside;
For, trained abroad his arms to wield,
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield."
The left arm, supplying the place of the targe, alluded to in Scott's
lines, is doubtless an advantage; but, in the case of the two combatants
whose merits we are considering, the ordinary swordsman possesses
superior reach, can lunge out further, and knows full well the value of
the point.
A melee at an Irish fair is worth seeing, but it is better not to join
in it, if possible.
A number of the "boys," from Cork or an adjacent county, were once had
up before Judge Keogh for beating a certain man within an inch of his
life. A witness under examination--after graphically describing how one
of the prisoners had beaten the poor man "wid a stone, and he lying
senseless in the road;" how another had hit the "crater wid a thick
wattle;" and how a third had kicked him in the back--was asked what one
Michael O'Flannagan, another of the prisoners, had done. "Begorra, your
honour," said the witness, "devil a hap'orth was Micky doing at all, at
all; he was just walking round searching for a vacancy."
A similar story is told of about a dozen tinkers who had set upon one
man and were unmercifully beating him. Presently there was a lull in the
proceedings, and a little deformed man, brandishing a very big stick,
elbowed his way through the crowd, shouting, "Och, now, boys, for the
love of mercy let a poor little cripple have just one stroke at him."
[Illustration: The fun of the fair--"Whirroo."]
THE WALKING-STICK.
The choice of this useful adjunct is by no means as easy as many people
suppose, for it involves not only a knowledge of the prerequisities--in
the matter of various kinds of woods, etc.--but also an acquaintance
with the situations a man may find himself in, and the uses to which he
may have to put his walking-stick.
First, then, as to the matter of the best wood. There are, roughly
speaking, two headings under which we may class our types of raw
material--strong and stiff wood, such as the oak and the hazel; and
strong and pliable, such as the ash-plant and various kinds of canes.
What one really wants to secure is a sufficient amount of stiffness and
strength to enable one to make an effective hit or longe, without any
chance of snapping, and a degree of pliability and spring combined with
that lightness which makes a stick handy and lively in actual encounter.
The oak has plenty of power and about the right density, but, unless you
get a rather big stick--too big for all-round usefulness,--it is apt to
snap. The hazel is perhaps rather too stiff, and it is certainly too
light, though for this very reason it is _handy_. Then, again, there is
no bending a hazel without a great chance of breaking it. A good strong
ground-ash is not to be despised if cut at the right time, but it is
always apt to split or break. Turning to the rattan-cane, we find a
capital solid cane--almost unbreakable--but with rather _too_ much bend
in it for thrusting, or warding off the rush of a savage dog. The
rattan, too, is very apt to split if by any chance the ferrule comes
off; and when once it has _really_ split you might just as well have a
birch-rod in your hands.
Where, then, shall we look for a stick which combines all the good
qualities and is free from the drawbacks just enumerated? Without the
slightest hesitation I refer you to the Irish blackthorn, which can be
chosen of such convenient size and weight as not to be cumbersome, and
which, if carefully selected, possesses all the strength of the oak,
plus enormous toughness, and a pliability which makes it a truly
charming weapon to work with.
It is a matter of some difficulty to obtain a _real_ blackthorn in
London or any big town. You go into a shop, and they show you a
smart-looking stick which has been peeled and deprived of most of its
knobs, dyed black, and varnished. That is _not_ the genuine article,
and, if you buy it, you will become the possessor of a stick as inferior
to a blackthorn as a pewter skewer is inferior to a Damascus blade.
The best way is to send over to Kerry, Cork, or some other county in the
Emerald Isle, and ask a friend to secure the proper thing as _prepared
by the inhabitants_.
The sticks are cut out of the hedges at that time of year when the sap
is not rising; they are then carefully prepared and dried in the peat
smoke for some considerable time, the bark of course being left on and
the knobs not cut off too close; and, when ready, they are hard, tough,
and thoroughly reliable weapons.
As regards appearance, too, I think, when the hard surface of the
rich-coloured bark has been rubbed up with a little oil and a nice
silver mount fixed on the handle, no man need feel ashamed of being seen
with one of them in Piccadilly or Bond Street.
The section of these sticks is seldom a true circle, but bear in mind,
when giving your order, to ask for those which are _rather flat than
otherwise_. I mean that the section should be elliptical, and not
circular. The shape of the stick then more nearly approaches that of
the blade of a sabre, and if you understand sword exercise and make all
cuts and guards with the true edge, you are far more likely to do
effective work.
Again, the blow comes in with greater severity on account of the
curvature at either end of the major axis of the ellipse being sharper
than it is at the end of any diameter of the circle, the sectional
areas, of course, being taken as equal.
The length of the blackthorn depends on the length of the man for whom
it is intended, but always go in for a good long stick. Useful lengths
range between 2 ft. 10 in. and 3 ft., and even 3 ft. 6 in. for a very
tall man.
The blackthorn, being stiff and covered with sharp knots, is a
first-rate weapon for defence at very close quarters. When, therefore,
your efforts at distance-work have failed, and you begin to be "hemmed
in," seize the stick very firmly with both hands, and dash the point and
hilt alternately into the faces and sides of your opponents.
Always have a good ferrule at the end of your stick. An inch and a half
from an old gun barrel is the best; and do not fix it on by means of a
rivet running through the stick. Let it be fixed in its place either by
a deep dent in the side, or by cutting out two little notches and
pressing the saw-like tooth into the wood. It is also a good plan to
carry these saw-like teeth all round the ferrule and then press the
points well into the wood; there is then no chance of the fastening-on
causing a split or crack in the wood.
The weight of the stick is an important matter to consider. Some
blackthorns are so enormously heavy that it is next to impossible to do
any quick effective work with them, and one is reminded, on seeing a man
"over sticked,"--if I may be allowed such an expression--of Lord
Dundreary's riddle, "Why does a dog wag his tail? Because the dog is
stronger than the tail," or of David in Saul's armour. Some time ago it
was rather the fashion for very young men to affect gigantic
walking-sticks--possibly with the view of intimidating would-be
plunderers and robbers, and investing themselves generally with a magic
sort of _noli me tangere_ air.
Without wishing to detract from the undoubted merits, _in certain
special cases_, of these very big sticks, I am bound to say that, only
being useful to a limited extent, they should not be encouraged. Let the
stick you habitually carry be one well within your compass. If it comes
up to guard readily and without any apparent effort or straining of your
wrist, and if you find you can make all the broadsword cuts, grasping it
as shown in Fig. 14, without the least spraining your thumb, then you
may be pretty sure that you are not "over-sticked," and that your cuts
and thrusts will be smart to an extent not to be acquired if you carried
a stick ever so little too heavy for you.
Though it is a good plan to be accustomed to the feel of the weapon
which is most likely to serve you in time of need, it is nevertheless a
grand mistake to get into a way of imagining that you can only use one
kind of stick or one kind of sword effectively.
This is one reason why it is so advisable to range wide in fencing
matters. I would always say, commence with the foils and work hard,
under some good master, for a year or so without touching any other
branch. Then go on to broad-sword, and keep to alternate days with
foils. Later on take up the single-stick, and then go on to
bayonet-exercise, quarter-staff, and anything else you please.
This extended range of work will give you a wonderful general capability
for adapting yourself at a moment's notice to any weapon chance may
place in your hands: the leg of an old chair, the joint of a fishing
rod, or the common or garden spade; any of these may be used with great
effect by an accomplished all-round swordsman.
There is one point on which a few words may not be out of place in this
connection.
Good men, with their fists, and those who are proficient with the sword
or stick, often complain that, in actual conflict with the rough and
ready, though ignorant, assailant, they are worsted because the
adversary does something diametrically opposed to what a scientific
exponent of either art would do in similar circumstances.
It is certainly trying, when you square up to a rough and expect him to
hit out with his fists, to receive a violent doubling-up kick in the
stomach; and similarly annoying is it, when attacked by a man with a
stick, to experience treatment quite different to anything you ever came
across in your own particular School-of-Arms.
But after all this is only what you ought to expect. It is absolutely
necessary to suit yourself to your environment for the time being, and
be ready for _anything_.
Depend upon it science must tell, and there is always this very
consoling reflection to fall back upon: if your opponent misses you, or
you are quick enough to avoid his clumsy attack--either of which is
extremely likely to happen--it is highly probable that you will be able
to make good your own attack, for, as a rule, the unscientific man hits
out of distance or wide of the mark, and this is rarely the case with a
scientific man.
It once fell to my lot to be set upon by a couple of very disagreeable
roughs in Dublin, one of whom did manage to get the first blow, but it
was "all round" and did not do much harm. Before he could deliver a
second hit I managed to lay him out with a very severe cut from my
blackthorn, which came in contact with his head just between the rim of
his hat and the collar of his coat. Now, had my knowledge of stick-play
been insufficient to enable me to accurately direct this cut (cut 5) to
its destination, I might not now be scribbling these pages. As it turned
out, this poor injured rough was placed _hors de combat_, and was
afterwards conveyed to the hospital, and I only had to tackle his
friend, a stubborn varlet, who, after knocking me about a good deal and
also receiving some rough treatment at my hands, ran away. He was
"wanted" by the police for some time, but was never caught.
This little episode is only given to show that the proper delivery of
one blow or hit is often enough to turn the tables, and how advisable it
is to practise _often_, so as to keep the eye and hand both steady and
quick.
When walking along a country road it is a good plan to make cuts with
your stick at weeds, etc., in the hedges, always using the true edge,
_i.e._ if aiming at a certain part of a bramble or nettle, to cut at it,
just as though you were using a sabre. By this sort of practice, which,
by the way, is to be deprecated in a young plantation or in a friend's
garden, you may greatly increase the accuracy of your eye.
It is merely an application of the principle which enables a fly-fisher
to place his fly directly under such and such over-hanging boughs, or
gives the experienced driver such control over his whip that he can
flick a midge off the ear of one of his galloping leaders.
Much does not, in all probability, depend upon the success or failure of
the piscator's cast, and very likely the midge might safely be allowed
to remain on the leader's ear; but if you are walking in a lonely suburb
or country lane, your _life_ may depend upon the accuracy with which you
can deliver one single cut or thrust with your faithful blackthorn.
I can almost hear people say, "Oh, this is all rubbish; I'm not going to
be attacked; life would not be worth living if one had to be always 'on
guard' in this way." Well, considering that this world, from the time we
are born to the time we die, is made up of uncertainties, and that we
are never really secure from attack at any moment of our lives, it does
seem worth while to devote a little attention to the pursuit of a
science, which is not only healthful and most fascinating, but which
may, in a second of time, enable you to turn a defeat into a victory,
and save yourself from being mauled and possibly killed in a fight which
was none of your own making. Added to all this, science gives a
consciousness of power and ability to assist the weak and defenceless,
which ought to be most welcome to the mind of any man. Though always
anxious to avoid anything like "a row," there are times when it may be
necessary to interfere for the sake of humanity, and how much more easy
is it to make that interference dignified and effective if you take your
stand with a certainty that you can, if pushed to extreme measures, make
matters very warm indeed for the aggressor? The consciousness of power
gives you your real authority, and with it you are far more likely to be
calm and to gain your point than you would be without the knowledge.
Backed up by science, you can both talk and act in a way which is likely
to lead to a peaceful solution of a difficulty, whereas, if the science
is absent, you _dare_ not, from very uncertainty, use those very words
which you know ought to be used on the occasion.
There are necessarily a good many difficulties to be faced in becoming
at all proficient in the art of self-defence, but the advantages to be
gained are doubtless very great.
An expert swordsman, and by this I mean one who is really _au fait_ with
any weapon you may put into his hand, who is also a good boxer and
wrestler, is a very nasty customer for any one or even two footpads to
make up to.
The worst of it is that it takes so long to become really good in any
branch of athletics. When you know all, or nearly all, that is to be
learned, you get a bit stiff and past work! But this, after all, need
not trouble one much, since it applies to all relations of life. As a
wise man once said, with a touch of sorrow and regret in his tone, "By
the time you have learned how to live, you die."
THE UMBRELLA.
As a weapon of modern warfare this implement has not been given a fair
place. It has, indeed, too often been spoken of with contempt and
disdain, but there is no doubt that, even in the hands of a strong and
angry old woman, a gamp of solid proportions may be the cause of much
damage to an adversary. Has not an umbrella, opened suddenly and with a
good flourish, stopped the deadly onslaught of the infuriated bull, and
caused the monarch of the fields to turn tail? Has it not, when
similarly brought into action, been the means of stopping a runaway
horse, whose mad career might otherwise have caused many broken legs and
arms?
If, then, there are these uses beyond those which the dampness of our
insular climate forces upon us, it may be well to inquire how they can
be brought to bear when a man, who is an expert swordsman, or one who
has given attention to his fencing lessons, is attacked without anything
in his hands save the homely umbrella.
It is, of course, an extremely risky operation prodding a
fellow-creature in the eye with the point of an umbrella; and I once
knew a man who, being attacked by many roughs, and in danger of losing
his life through their brutality, in a despairing effort made a
desperate thrust at the face of one of his assailants. The point entered
the eye _and the brain_, and the man fell stone dead at his feet. I
would therefore only advocate the thrusting when extreme danger
threatens--as a _dernier resort_, in fact, and when it is a case of who
shall be killed, you or your assailant.
There are two methods of using the umbrella, viz. holding it like a
fencing foil--and for this reason umbrellas should always be chosen with
strong straight handles--for long thrusts when at a distance, or
grasping it firmly with both hands, as one grasps the military rifle
when at bayonet-exercise. In the latter case one has a splendid weapon
for use against several assailants at close quarters. Both the arms
should be bent and held close to the body, which should be made to work
freely from the hips, so as to put plenty of weight into the short sharp
prods with which you can alternately visit your opponents' faces and
ribs. If you have the handle in your right hand, and the left hand
grasps the silk (or alpaca), not more than a foot from the point, it
will be found most effective to use the forward and upward strokes with
the point for the faces, and the back-thrusts with the handle for the
bodies. Whatever you do, let your strokes be made very quickly and
forcibly, for when it comes to such close work as this your danger lies
in being altogether overpowered, thrown down, and possibly kicked to
death; and, as I have before hinted, when there is a choice of evils,
choose the lesser, and don't be the least squeamish about hurting those
who will not hesitate to make a football of your devoted head should it
unfortunately be laid low.
Then, again, there is no better weapon for guarding a heavy blow aimed
at you with a thick bludgeon than an umbrella, which, with its wire
ribs and soft covering, is almost unbreakable, when all its ribs are
held tightly with _both_ hands; it is also, for the same reason, when
thus grasped with both hands, an excellent defence against the attack of
a large powerful dog, which may spring at your throat; but, in this
case, remember to get one of your legs well behind the other so as to
bring most of the weight of your body on the foremost leg, and, if you
are lucky, you may have the satisfaction of throwing the animal on his
back.
Thrusting, prodding, and guarding, then, may be called the strong points
of the gamp; it is no use for hitting purposes, and invariably tumbles
to pieces, comes undone, and gets into a demoralized condition when one
tries to make it fulfil all the conditions of the unclothed
walking-stick. Besides which, the handles are _never_ made strong enough
for hitting, and the hittee is protected by the folds of silk.
Hitting, then, is the weak point of the gamp. Try to remember this when
you feel inclined to administer a castigation to man or beast, and bear
in mind that a comic scene may ensue, when, hot and angry, you stand
with your best umbrella broken and half open, with the silk torn and the
ribs sticking out in all directions.
Sometimes umbrellas have been made even more effective weapons by what
is called a spring dagger, which consists of a short, strong knife or
dirk let into the handle, and is readily brought into play by a sudden
jerk, or by touching a spring. This may be all very well for travellers
in the out-of-the-way regions of Spain, Sicily, or Italy, but I don't
like these dangerous accessories for English use, as they _may_ be
unfortunately liable to abuse by excitable persons.
In addition to the weapons already alluded to, there are others which,
though not so generally known, or so generally useful, may be turned to
good account on certain occasions.
The "life-preserver" consists of a stout piece of cane about a foot
long, with a ball of five or six ounces of lead attached firmly to one
end by catgut netting, whilst the other end is furnished with a strong
leather or catgut loop to go round the wrist and prevent the weapon
flying from or being snatched from the hand.
Of course this instrument _may_ be very effective, very deadly, but what
you have to consider is this: the serviceable portion is so small--no
bigger than a hen's egg--that unless you are almost an expert, or
circumstances greatly favour you, there is more than a chance of
altogether missing your mark. With the life-preserver you have, say, at
most a couple of inches only of effective weapon to rely on, whereas
with the cudgel at least a foot of hard and heavy wood may be depended
upon for bowling over the adversary.
A leaded rattan cane is a dangerous instrument in expert hands, but my
objections to it are very similar to those advanced with regard to the
shorter weapon. Leaded walking-sticks are not "handy," for the presence
of so much weight in the hitting portion makes them extremely bad for
quick returns, recovery, and for guarding purposes.
To my mind the leaded rattan is to the well-chosen blackthorn what the
life-preserver is to the cudgel--an inferior weapon.
One does not want to _kill_ but to _disable_, even those who have taken
the mean advantage of trying to catch one unprepared in the highways and
byways. To take an ordinary common-sense view of the matter: it is
surely better far to have a three to one chance in favour of disabling
than an even chance of killing a fellow-creature? The disablement is all
you want, and, having secured that, the best thing is to get out of the
way as soon as possible, so as to avoid further complications.
The sword-stick is an instrument I thoroughly detest and abominate, and
could not possibly advocate the use of in any circumstances whatever.
These wretched apologies for swords are to outward appearance ordinary
straight canes--usually of Malacca cane. On pulling the handle of one of
these weapons, however, a nasty piece of steel is revealed, and then you
draw forth a blade something between a fencing-foil and a skewer.
They are poor things as regards length and strength, and "not in it"
with a good solid stick. In the hands of a hasty, hot-tempered
individual they may lead to the shedding of blood over some trivial,
senseless squabble. The hollowing out of the cane, to make the scabbard,
renders them almost useless for hitting purposes.
In the environs of our big cities there is always a chance of attack by
some fellow who asks the time, wants a match to light his cigar, or asks
the way to some place. When accosted never stop, never draw out watch or
box of lights, and never know the way anywhere. Always make a good guess
at the time, and swear you have no matches about you. It is wonderful to
notice kind-hearted ladies stopping to give to stalwart beggars who are
only waiting for an opportunity to snatch purses, and it would be
interesting to know how many annually lose their purses and watches
through this mistaken method of distributing largess.
Let me conclude by saying that, if you want to be as safe as possible in
a doubtful neighbourhood, your best friends are a quick ear, a quick
eye, a quick step, and a predilection for the middle of the road. The
two former help you to detect, as the two latter may enable you to avoid
a sudden onslaught.
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_Numerous Illustrations._ BOXING. _Price 1s._
BY
R. G. ALLANSON-WINN,
INNS OF COURT SCHOOL OF ARMS, WINNER OF THE MIDDLE WEIGHTS,
CAMBRIDGE, 1876-7; HEAVY WEIGHTS, 1877-8.
"Mr. Winn's book is worthy of great praise, for it is at once one of the
cheapest and best on the subject."--_Field._
"His (Mr. Allanson-Winn's) book gives ample testimony of his ability to
write on boxing. If only for the illustrations that enable the novice to
see what he should do with the gloves and what he should not do with
them, the brochure is well worth the modest price charged for
it."--PENDRAGON in the _Referee._
"The art of self-defence is here treated from a thoroughly practical
point of view. Clear as the text is, its value is no little enhanced by
the numerous and admirably executed illustrations."--_St. James's
Gazette._
NEW EDITION, REVISED.
_Illustrated._ WRESTLING. _Price 1s._
BY
WALTER ARMSTRONG ("CROSS-BUTTOCKER"),
LATE HON. SEC. CUMBERLAND AND WESTMORELAND WRESTLING SOCIETY IN
LONDON, AUTHOR OF "WRESTLIANA," ETC., ETC.
"'Wrestling' needs no praise at our hands. It is sufficient to say that
the handbook is the work of Mr. Walter Armstrong."--_Field._
"No one is better qualified to deal with such a subject than the
'Cross-buttocker,' who for the last thirty years has been known as a
clever light-weight wrestler, and whose remarks are, therefore, not mere
theories, but founded on the results of long experience."--_Sporting
Life._
"The handy little volume will be largely acceptable in these northern
parts, where wrestling is a distinctive pastime."--_West Cumberland
Times_.
LONDON: G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.
Underlined passages indicated by =underline=.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"cutlas" corrected to "cutlass" (page 23)
"two" corrected to "too" (page 81)
"once" corrected to "one" (page 86)
"spilt" corrected to "split" (page 105)
Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies
in spelling and hyphenation usage have been retained.