White Feather

and their evenings in the old oak parlour,where a picture in boxing costume of Mr Joe Bevan, whose brother wasthe landlord of the inn, gazed austerely down on t

been converted into a gymnasium for the useof mine host's brother. Thither he brought pugilistic aspirants whowished to be trained for various contests, and it was the boast of the"Blue Boar" that it had never turned ou

y, and after half anhour's work found himself opposit

ht must have been discovered. He had reached thelanding-stage in safety, but he had not felt comfortable until he waswell out of sight of the town. It was fortunate

he landlord, who was an enlarged and coloured edition ofhis brother. From the o

at the door

y football. Tothe left, suspended from a beam, was an enormous leather bolster. Onthe floor, underneath a table bearing several pairs of boxing-gloves, askipping-rope, and some wooden dumb-bells, was something that lookedlike a dozen Association footballs rolled into one. All the rest of theroom, a space some few yards square, was bare o

within an inchof his nose, and tapped him caressingly on the waistcoat. Just as theshower was at its heaviest his assailant darted away again,side-stepped an imaginary blow, ducked another, an

young gentleman from the college come for tuition.""Gentleman--won't min

assure him that he h

Come this way, Mr--""Sheen.""Come this way, Mr Sheen, and I'll show you where to put on you

when I came in?""Oh, he always has three rounds like that every day. It teaches you toget about quick. You try it when you

and then he's finished for the day."Having donned his football clothes and returned to the

nquired Francis affably,

nce--Joe Bevan cut his soliloquy short at this point by leading him off toanother room for his shower-bath; but before he went he expressed adesire to talk further with Sheen on the subject of dogs, and, learningthat Sheen would be there every day, said he was glad to hear it. Headded that for a brother dog-lover he did not mind stretching a point,so that, if ever Sheen wanted a couple of rounds any day,

inian had passed those preliminarys

ults. A boxing instructor needs three qualities--skill, sympathy,and enthusiasm. Joe Bevan had all three, particularly enthusiasm. Hisheart was in his work, and he carried Sheen with him. "Beautiful, sir,beautiful," he kept saying, as he guarded the blows; and Sheen, thoughtoo clever to be wholly deceived by the praise, for he knew perfectlywell that his efforts up to the present had been anything butbeautiful, was nev

and he felt the gentle pressureof Joe Bevan's glove less frequently. At no stage of a pupil'seducation did Joe Bevan hit him really hard, and in the first fewlessons he could

't flap. Put it in with some weight behind it." He wasalso fond of mentioning that extr

lesson, feeling hotter than

in the lastfortnight. Before then, he had been, on the whole, satisfied withhimself. He was brilliant at work, and would certainly get ascholarship at Oxford or Cambridge when the time came; and he had

ics, that the happy mean was the thing at whichto strive. And for the future he meant to aim at

and heavy. By throwing this--themedicine-ball, as they call it in the profession--at Joe Bevan, andca

ood rubdown tonight, or you'll find yourself very stiff in the

e all gently.' That'swhat you've got to remember in boxing, sir. Take it easy. Easy and cooldoes it, and the straight left beats the world."* * * * *Sheen paddled quietly back to the town with the strea