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avoid capture.

He was, indeed, the most powerful piece on the board, for at the same period of history the queen, or rather the piece which corresponded to the present queen, could only move one square at a time in a diagonal direction. Castling is, comparatively speaking, a modern innovation, and serves perhaps to exemplify trickiness in war. It replaced the king's knight's move.

The history of chess appears to have followed the constitutional history of India with some exactitude as regards the development and powers of the various pieces. The word "queen," it should be remembered, is somewhat of a misnomer; the original word was "firz," or "farz," which means a "councillor" or "generalissimo" of the male

sex.

In many Indian States-Nepaul is a good example at the present momentthe real power lies in the hands of the Prime Minister, who is also, in the particular instance cited, the Commanderin-Chief of the Forces. It might seem possible that as the real power slowly slipped from the hands of the ruling monarch himself, and became vested gradually in the Prime Minister and Commander-in-Chief-a position which, curiously enough, is hereditary in some cases the game of chess was altered to meet these altered circumstances. Thus the king, stripped of most of his offensive power, still remains the most important person, whose capture terminates the game; but in his fighting capacity he no longer exists on the board, the whole of his powers being handed over to his chief adviser.

The reason why the "firz” should have developed into a female in modern chess is an interesting study in comparative history. Certain it is that in no country in the world do women occupy such an inferior position in every-day life as in India. They are child-bearers and nothing else. It

is impossible to think that this change can have been Indian in origin. The most feasible explanation, and the one which will bear the closest examination, is the following: The word "firz," or "farz," became corrupted as the game spread westwards, and became firzia," or "farzia." Various similar forms are to be found in mediæval MSS. The game of draughts is also very old; perhaps the Greek Tσσo are the direct lineal ancestors of the present game. The game of draughts was well known in Europe, particularly in France, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and in its method of play did not differ materially from the game as at present played.

The French word for a draught is a "dame." In common English, however, "draughtsman" and not "draughtswoman" is the word in general use. In draughts, when a "dame" reaches the eighth square, she becomes a queen or king. In exactly the same way when a pawn in chess reaches the opponent's side of the board, it becomes a "farz," or "farzia." The femininity of the most powerful piece on the board can be accounted for by the close resemblance of the two games in this particular. Indeed, old MSS. are extant in which the words "regina" and "ferzia" are used indiscriminately, meaning a "queen." This fact practically confirms the curious confusion of origin. It may be that the intellectual coterie of some bygone age intended a delicate compliment to a great militant queen by the alteration to the sex of the king's chief adviser in the great military game of chess. Some indeed might say that, at the present day, such a compliment would not be out of place due, however, to the ephemeral glory of those Amazons, the Suffragettes. Some authorities have it that the queen derived her great power from a similar analogy to the game of draughts.

But the history of the other pieces, except, perhaps, the knights, is not so clear. The two knights are obviously the horsemen of the contending hosts. Horses are to be found all over the East. But the meaning of the "two hops and a jump" move by which these mounted warriors career over the board is obscure. It may be conjectured that, after the castle and the bishop had been assigned their moves (in the early days these two pieces could only move two steps at a time either straight up and down the board or diagonally across it), which have been of the same type throughout all the successive centuries, some different move had to be found for these horse

men.

As a result the fertile brain of the inventor conceived the strange move which is a stumbling-block to so many beginners. The fact that in the earliest days neither queen, bishop, nor castle could sweep the board in the same manner as they do at present must not be forgotten in the search for the origin of the quaint knight's move.

The pawn is the common foot-soldier; as first arranged, a pawn could only make one move at a time, straight forward, even for his first move. The reason for the double step which a pawn can make at will when moving from off his own square is probably to be found in the fact that the game was thus opened up more quickly. The word "pawn" is identical with the common Hindustani "peon," or private policeman.

The bishop is a most interesting piece. The Arabic word which represents a "bishop" is "Alfil"-otherwise Aleph-hind, the Indian ox. But the Arabic alphabet lacks the letter "p." As a consequence the Persian word "pil" an elephant, became "Alfil," or "fil" as it is sometimes written in Arabic.

Elephants are to be found all over India, and undoubtedly formed a part

of the fighting line in battle, as Carthaginian history clearly indicates. Also elephants do take the place of bishops in some Indian sets of chessmen, and the writer has himself played with such a set.

Oxen have never, probably, found a place in the line of battle, though they would be common enough in the commissariat department of the armies of old. If the Hindustani word "Alephhind" is to be accepted as only meaning an "ox," a difficulty arises as to the Indian origin of the piece as well as of the game itself. The word may have meant any large beast, and possibly bore a special significance when used in connection with the game of chess. The elephant origin certainly appears the most probable. Bishops could only make two steps at a time along their diagonals, but, like the knight, could jump over the intervening piece. The curious result followed that two opposing bishops of like color moving on the same diagonal could never attack one another.

It was not until the sixteenth century that such revolutionary changes in the movements of the king, queen, bishop, and, in fact, of all the pieces, except the knight, were adopted, as exemplified in the present condition of the game.

The bishops may be of French origin. In the early days the fighting bishops, crusaders and other fighting religious devotees, formed one of the most important elements in any army, and doubtless were incorporated in the game of war, when elephants were no longer used in battle; and possibly as a compliment to the fighting prowess of the ancient religious fighting orders.

The rook or castle is a very doubtful quantity. The earliest parchments refer to this piece as a "rukh," a Persian word meaning a "knight commander"-a superior kind of person to the ordinary knight-but as the balance of probability indicates an Indian

origin for both the game itself and the men, this derivation should be received with some caution.

If ancient history can be taken as a criterion-which certainly appears a justifiable course the rook might have degenerated from the war chariot. This deduction is strengthened by the writer's experience in Rangoon, related below. Chariots were quite usual as weapons of warfare in all countries of the world, and although they died out before the power of Rome reached its zenith, yet Italy, Greece and Asia Minor would not be such favorable countries for the use of a vehicle of this description in warfare as the flat plains of India. A very long period is thus leftmuch longer than in the case of all the other pieces-for the action of confusing influences to baffle the efforts of subsequent inquiries in their historical research. One of the most ancient Sanscrit manuscripts alludes to the four great divisions of a fighting army as horse, foot, elephants and chariots; and, additionally, the Sanscrit word for a chariot is "ratha." Thus the four great elements in chess-knights, pawns, bishops and castles-would correspond to these four ancient types. Possibly "ratha” and “rukh” are allied.

The move of the castle, which has been the same throughout all history, points to the same conclusion. Ancient chariots had no traces; the horses were only attached to the central pole. As a consequence there must have been a great deal of difficulty in wheeling them, especially in the mad excitement of battle, when the animals would be more difficult to control. May it not be that the straightforward motion of the chariot is reflected in the direct motion of the castle of the present day in its solid swoop up and down or across the board?

Perhaps the modern castellated form is also derived from the French, a

change rendered desirable to suit the altered conditions of warfare. It is a pity, however, that in the military game of chess, where every piece possesses both an offensive and defensive power, due to the particular moves assigned to each, a stationary object, such as a castle, should have formed the image upon which to model the original "rulik" or the still earlier chariot. An explanation may be found in the confusion which would arise should both rook and knight be represented as horsemen on the same board. It would be difficult to differentiate one from the other; but if this were the case, it is a still greater pity that the chariot form did not re-appear in substitute so as to preserve the ancient origin of the game.

Some authorities have it that the rook or castle of to-day is the elephant of the chatauranga of long ago; and that the castellated form is due to the howdah, adorning the elephant's back, the elephant itself having disappeared. Against this, however, the etymology of the word rook must be set, which is undoubtedly the equivalent of the Sanscrit Ratha: == chariot.

A short time ago the writer had a curious experience in one of the bystreets of Rangoon, which, so far as it went, confirmed the "chariot" theory of the castle. Quite by chance he stopped before a native shop and, to his surprise, saw a dozen men-all natives, but of every nationality-seated round a chess-board. Out of curiosity he stepped within, and was promptly made most welcome-an unusual experience after the bazaars of India. sat down and watched the game in progress for a few minutes, but it was the chessmen themselves which attracted his attention particularly.

He

Made of ivory and teak, these old men were battered and broken almost beyond belief, but the original form could still be distinguished in spite of great

They

disfigurement. The bishops were quite obviously elephants; but the knights, king and queen had nothing remarkable about them. It was the castles which struck the eye at once. appeared like a small three-sided box with sloping sides, mounted on stands of a much later date than the "box" structure itself. The fourth side, of the box was non-existent altogether; but the chariot form was suggested by this appearance.

So battered and broken were they that it was not possible to be posiThe Contemporary Review.

tively sure, and in such circumstances no close examination of the pieces could be made.

Most unfortunately no further opportunity presented itself to examine this ancient set of men, which was a matter of great regret to the writer.

The aeroplane and machine gun of the future may, some time, replace the bishop and rook of to-day; but the past history of this most delightful of all games, is, it is to be feared, lost in the mists of time.

0. Paul Monckton.

CHARLIE OVER THE WATER. BY JANE H. FINDLATER.

VI.

You would have thought that nothing could have put strength enough into the Widow's poor old limbs to rise from her sick-bed and start off once again on the "terrible long road" for home. Yet with the hope of home came the strength to try to reach it.

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In vain Charlie protested against the proposed journey, using every argument he knew to make his mother stay with him. She would only make one reply: "I'm wanting home, Charlie; I cannot be staying, I wouldn't be resting in the strange earth." It seemed natural enough to Charlie, after alltoo well he understood her feeling, though he tried to argue it down. little desolate graveyard stood on a bit of rising ground half-way to Cypress Creek. Wooden crosses marked the graves in this stoneless land for a few years' time; then they fell to pieces and were never replaced. Many a time had Charlie shuddered as he passed the place, fearing some day to be laid in that alien earth, under the blinding sun, in a forgotten grave. The Celtic strain of ineradicable superstition was strong within him; like his mother, he

feared he could not rest there that his uneasy ghost would somehow have to recross the ocean to "walk” for ever round the dear home of his childhood. "I won't be hindering you, mother," he said at last. "Maybe you're right."

Charlie's wife was palpably delighted to be getting rid of her motherin-law, though in her husband's presence she begged her to make a longer stay. But the Widow was all impatience to be off. She seemed filled with a feverish strength, and declared herself quite ready to start whenever Hector was willing to do so.

It was with a heavy heart that the poor lad saw that there was no escape from the path of renunciation, and realized what it meant for him.

In a fortnight's time, or thereabouts, he would be back again on the Island, with only the croft to work, the cow to herd, and with the long idle winter opening out before him with its dismaying vista of emptiness. All one night Hector lay awake in an agony of despair. At one moment he thought of begging Charlie to take his mother home, and let him stay to work the

place in his absence. But he quickly realized that a travelling companion was not all that the Widow needed; she could never be left alone in her old age with no one to work the croft or look after her, and Charlie could not stay with her always. Then another possible loophole of escape suggested itself: would there be enough of money to take them home again? The fifty pounds had dwindled down amazingly. But this hope was quickly extinguished.

"I'll be paying for anything extra, Hector," Charlie said. "And, mind, you must take her home comfortably -she's not fit for much now."

Hector felt ashamed to feel his own disappointment at these words. Every day that their departure was put off the Widow became more impatient; she was like a child clamoring for something.

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"When will you be starting, Hector?" she would say each morning; and always there would be some thought-of preparation to be made. . . . Charlie, of course, proposed to write to the mythical Mrs. MacDonald who had so unaccountably failed to meet them on their arrival in New York; but Hector, with a bright blush that was inexplicable to his "elation, said they would prefer to be met there this time by Mrs. Koster: he would write himself about it, he added.

This caused a week's delay; then a note, written on pink paper, arrived to Hector one morning. It seemed to please him mightily, though he only said in an off-hand manner that Mrs. Koster would be kind enough to put them up for a few nights before they sailed.

This matter being arranged, there remained no other pretext for delay, so the 17th October was settled for the homeward start. On the last evening Hector left the Widow sitting with Charlie, and went out alone into the

The

warm autumn night. He sauntered along the fields to the edge of the clearing and sat on the fence to rest. frogs were chanting in the swamps with their curious solemn note, and away across the clearing in one of the negro cabins someone thrummed on a little stringed instrument. Then the soft negro voices began to sing in chorus. Hector knew by this time the pensive old words that they were singing; but to-night they seemed to bear another meaning to him:

Swing low, swing low, sweet char-i-ot, Comin' for to carry me home.

He rose impatiently and walked away; but the plaintive chorus of the hymn carried far in the quiet night— he could not escape from it. The negroes were singing it over and over again:

Comin' for to carry me home.

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Charlie came as far as Memphis with them, and there bade them good-bye. He tried hard not to let it be a sad farewell, because, said he, perhaps he might be coming across the water himself next year. What would his mother say to that?

They kept holding on to this hope all the way to Memphis, speaking of it as almost a settled thing, even planning how the Widow was to drive down to Balneish in the Mathesons' cart to meet him on that blessed day when he should return to the Island. But when the moment for parting came, Hope dwindled down into a mere phantom; and Separation and Distance, Age and Death, took on shapes of horrible actuality. Would they ever really meet again face to face? It seemed unlikely; she so old, he so bound to his new home by a hundred ties.

When the bitter moment had come and gone when she had looked her last at Charlie and given him her blessing-the Widow, to Hector's sur

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