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The Seaforth News, 1960-05-05, Page 6Earned Fortune Going For a Walk Walking and hiking are a1 ways in the news, especially during spring and summer when more walkers and mora walking clubs than ever organ - lets long-distance journeys on Mot, in England especially. Just now two Oxford men are trying to break the record for walking from Carfax to Marble Arch Carfax being the central crossroads in Ox- ford, The distance is approxi- mately fifty-three miles. The record was set up more than half a century ago, in 1002, when as an Oxford undergradu- ate, Hilaire Belloe walked from Oxford to London in the am- azing time of just under 111,2 hours. Belloc -- afterwards to be- come famous as a poet and es. sayist .-. had none of the mod- ern hiker's equipment. He didn't even carry a walking stick. Set- ting out in the early morning, he did the journey almost in one leg. Perhaps the greatest walker of all time was Captain Barclay, aide-de-camp to Lieut. -General the Marquis of Huntley. In 1800 Barclay wagered that he would walk 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours The stake, in modern currency, was $130,000. It was estimated that private gamblers laid out the equivalent of a quarter of a million sterling in bets. They believed the feat impossible. Without any preliminary train- ing — wearing dancing pumps, top hat, plus a smart cravat in addition to his normal attire — Captain Barclay set out from Newmarket at midnight on June 1st. In the words of 'The Times': "Arrangements were made for observers to be on duty the whole time keeping a recor t hour by hour of the Captain's time and speed." This official log book - which included de- tails of weather — was after- wards published as a book. If anyone expected excite- ment, they were disappointed. Keeping to lanes and grassy tracks is the district, Captain Barclay took forty-two days over the job, and completed it without the slightest sign of fa- tigue. When he finished at three o'clock on the afternoon of July 12th, not a room was to be had in the district. "To the sound al church bells, Captain Barclay was greeted by ane of the biggest crowds which have ever welcomed a triumphant pedestrian," said 'The Times,' Perhaps the most remarkable thing about this feat was the walker's daily routine. He got up every morning at five o'clock. its breakfast was "a roasted fowl, a pint of strong ale, and two cups of tea with bread and butter." On that snack he walked without stopping for seven hours. At mid-day he had lunch — "beef steaks and mut- ton chops." At six in the evening he had another meal . . beef and mutton, some porter, and two or three glasses of wine. Before retiring to bed he had a sup- per of cold fowl." During the first week his av- erage time for one mile was 14 minutes 43 seconds, but as the pace began to tell he slowed down, and the average towards the end was 21 minutes 4 sec- onds. When he started his feat some punters were willing to take odds 01 100 to 1 against his success. Half -way through his walk the odds had closed to 2 to 1 in his favour. Over the last two days all wagers had ceased. However, we do not have to go so far back in time to dis- tover some notable walking teats by non-professional walk- ers. Less than ten years ago, for instance, a grandmother walked from John o' Groat's to London at an average speed of thirty-three miles a day. She was more than sixty years : age at the time of her epic walk, She carried no luggage -- not even a haversack - but ar- ranged for clothes and other supplies to be posted ahead each day. RUSSIAN COLISEUM DISPLAY — This sculpture in bone, called "The Magic Pike," will be on display at the Russian exhibition in New York, Made in the art shop of a Moscow meat -packing plant, it's part of the U.S.S.R. 40 -day exhibit in the Coliseum, Looked Like A Complete Story by Leone Stewart A Confidence Trick The chair had stood in our sit- ting room for as long as I could remember. It was my mother's chair, though she never sat on it. And we children weren't al- lowed to touch it, Perhaps because it was in- accessible to us, we looked upon it as a magic chair, I used to stand and gaze at It, studying the curved lines, the highly polished arras and intri- cate carving, and in my imgina- tion I pictured a lovely young girl in the silks and satins of the eighteenth century pausing to sit on the chair in some spa- cious drawing room. "It's a Hepplewhite," my moth- er would tell visitors with pride in her voice, "My employers gave it to me when I got married. I was nursery governess to their children at the Manor House." The Manor was just a dilapi- dated shell now. The gardens were overgrown, the windows broken and the great green gates padlocked. My mother never went past the house, because she couldn't bear to see it decaying through neglect. She preferred to remem- ber it as it was in the days when she worked there, We loved to listen to her tales of the big parties, the great log fires that burned in every room, the vast kitchen with its rows and rows of gleaming copper saucepans, and the priceless silver on the dinning room sideboard. And while she was talking, her gaze would stray towards the chair, proud reminder of her youth and the splendours of a bygone age. But though Mother's Hepple- white was a showpiece, it had an even deeper significance for her. It spelt security. I used to hear her talking to my father about it. It seemed that while they had the chair they need never worry. They could always sell it if the need arose. It was kept in tip-top condi- tion against the day when money might be needed urgently. I knew Mother would hate to part with her chair, but she was a practical person, and it would be her contribution to a financial crisis. Ambition was not a leading facet of Father's character, and when he allowed a business op- portunity to slip through his fin- gers Mother would speak of the chair and suggest they call in a dealer. That always jolted Father into action, and we would weather the storm without Mother being called upon to make her supreme sacrifice. While the rest of our funiture became worn through the years, the Hepplewhite chair still re- talAil'P'S DERBY — Beach straw conceals a bonnet of mettle jersey. If hugs ears and ties under chin. Ribbon is grosgrain. mained beautiful, untouched by the whole family, with the ex- ception of Mother, who spent touch of her leisure polishing the wood and sponging dust off the upholstery. I was fifteen, my sista'', Julia, twelve, and Roy, our brother, eight, when Father lost his jab. The blow fell suddenly, with- out warning. The owner of the small printing firm died and the business folded almost overnight. For a time we lived on our savings but as weeks ran into months the future began to look wretched. There was a slump and it seemed no one wanted my father. The chair was given extra spe- cial attention these days, and as I looked at Mother I knew what was in her mind. One night I had a toothache and went down to get some salt from the kitchen to ease it, As I passed the sitting -room door I heard my parents talking. "The chair must go now, Har- old," Mother was saying. "I know you've never liked the idea, but we must think of the children, We should get at least a hun- dred guineas for it perhaps more." Father didn't even argue the point. Maybe, I thought, he, too, felt the time had come, for the. chair to leave us. Mother arranged for a dealer to call the following Friday, and then she made an excuse to go out. As she pulled on her gloves her face was rather pale and I noticed that not once did she glance towards her chair. "Mr. Sellers is coming at three, Harold," she said, calmly, "Get the best price you can," Father nodded in a resigned fashion, and Mother went out. I was told to take Julia and Roy into the garden when the dealer called. I peeped in at the sitting -room window and saw -a small, red- faced man inspecting the chair while Father stood by, looking rather unhappy about the whole thing. Feeling pretty miserable my- self, I joined Julia and Roy at the end of the garden. I felt this was a monumental day in all our lives. A part of my mother would go out of the house with that chair. The money would soon be spent and Mother would no longer have the feeling of security that the Hepplewhite had given her all these years. Mr, Sellers didn't stay long, and after we heard his car drive away Father called us into the house. Roy had brought in Inc engine and seemed more inter- ested in the toy than in hearing about the fate of Mother's chair. "Now listen to me, all of you," my father sid, his face suddenly more alive than I'd seen it for a long time. "Mr. Sellers has just told the the chair is a genuine Hepplewhite and that he'd be willing to pay us a lot of money for 11...." "flow much?" Julia asked. "A hundred and fifty guineas." It was a great deal of money. I waited, watching my father. He went over to the chair- and ran his fingers along the polished wood. "But I don't want to sell it. It belongs to your mother and it means more to her than we'll ever realize," "What are you going to do?" I asked. "Mother expects the chair to be gone when she comes bade" "Yes, I know," Father said slowly. "But though we need the money very much --- we need the chair more." "Now," Father went on, "I want you all to keep a secret. It's very important that you do. I'm going to tell your mother that the chair isn't a genuine an- tique. I'm going to say that Mr. Sellers didn't offer me a price." "That'll be a fib," Julia said. "Yes, I'm afraid It will." Fa- ther moved to the fireplace, look- ing, thoughtful. "'It'll be the one and only fib I've ever told your mother. But I want her to keep the chair. Now will you all keep nay secret?" "Of course we will," I said and, running to hint, threw my arms round his neck. "I'm so glad you're doing this. But suppose," I added anxiously, "Manicy calla In another dealer?' Father shrugged. "That can't be helped But I don't think she will. She has absolute faith in Mr. Sellers. When my mother came home she looked tired, and my father took her into the sitting -room. They were alone for some time and when they did came out neither spoke about the chair. Father found another job e week later and never again were we in financial difficulties. When he died several years later and my mother had recovered from the shock, she told ire she was thinking of selling the chair, "But you cant." I said. "It's not worth anything." She smiled at me. "Oh, yes, it is, I know the truth about it. I've always known. Your father wanted me to keep it, He knew what it meant to Inc. IIe was so kind and understanding that I hadn't the heart to tell him I knew about the little hoax he played on me. But Roy told me the very sante day' the dealer called." In the years that followed Mother often spoke about selling the chair. When Roy decided to emigrate to Canada she wanted to part with it to give him a present, but he persuaded her not to. Then Julia became engaged and Mother suggested letting the chair go to nay for a big wed- ding. But Julia wouldn't hear of it, She settled for a quiet cere- mony and the chair stayed on in Mother's house. And when she died, a very old lady, she left the chair to me. My husband is an antique dealer. He knows the true value of things and he agrees with me that the chair is priceless , .. but only when valued in terms of human happiness. "But it isn't a genuine Hepple- white," he explained to Inc. "On the open market it wouldn't fetch more than a pound or two." I knew then that Mr. Sellers trust have. told niy father it was only a cheap reproduction. I could just picture my father's quandary. He didn't want my mother to Boys Finally Ota,wspell Giris For four feminist years sharp- tongued girls have speared the prize at the Scripps -Howard Na- tional Spelling Bee. It looked that way again last month at the 32nd annual spellbinder in the ballroom of Washington's May- flower Hotel. The girls marched past progressively tougher words, from heroine, blossom and denti- frice to operose, miscible and quadrunlanous. By the end of the first day, there were six girl contestants to five boys. Ratiocination. On the second day, the tide rurned. As news- men sneakily cribbed from one another at tables covered with green (bate? baize? beise?) cloth, the girls were toppled by persiflage, ephelis, additament, cacolet. In the 22nd ground, 13 - year -old Elaine Hassel] of Dallas, the last girl survivor, fluffed on porphyry (she guessed porfiree). Three boys remained; Allan L. Kramer, 13, of Lake Worth Fla.; Robert Crossley, 13, of Norris- town, Pa.; Joel Montgomery, 12, of Denver. And down went Kra - neer in Round 24; after negotiat- ing quidnunc, eclectic, and sar- cophagus, he missed ratiocina- tion. The mellifluous pronouncer ("I give full value to each of the diacritical markings in Webster") was so overcome that be nearly left the stage himself. For five more rounds the ten- sion made an ordinary TV isola- tion booth seem like a rest cure. Closing his eyes and mopping his face, Bobby Crossley deliver- ed terricolous amid wild ap- plause. Seventh Grader Joel Montgomery coolly rapped out pastiche, prolegomenous, success- fully spelled susurrus when Bob. by shakily flubbed it. Then Joel missed vinaigrous, and so did Bobby, leaving the game at deuce. In Round 30, Joel grace- fully pronounced gracilescent and spelled it correctly it was Bobby's chance to hold the tie. As he stood under the tall micro- phone, pondering fanfaronade, know her beloved chair was really a fake. He wanted her to go on believing that her gift from the Manor was a geuine Hepple- white. That is why he played a "con- fidence trick" on his three chil- dren on the day the dealer call- ed. For niy father knew it was quite impossible for young Roy to keep a secret from his motive. —Front "TID-BITS" Bobby's long trousers seemed to sag. Out carne fanferataade. Art Joel had to do to win was spell catamaran, the 504th word. He did it without butting an eye. A calm champion -- the first boy to win since 1904 -- pudgy„ pink-cheeked Joel slung are arm around tearful Bobby and quiet- ly allowed that his only real puz- zler had been intitule in an early round. Joel came equipped tis win. The son of a lumber sales- man, he reads four or five books a week, is starting Darwin's. Origin of Species.. Acid his spell- ing coach at Denver's Byers Jen- for High School Is Teacher Ted Gutta, producer of a co -champion two years ago, who shuns rote memorization, Glim starts with accurate promacle'Ion. "Then we go thoroughly into roots, pre- fixes and suffixes, We learn the story behind words, their mean- ing and use today." Run•of-tlae- mull samples; tenebrous, caehin- natory, sorbefacient, Says Glim- trained Joel, whose $1,000 prize would go toward his college edu- cation as a forestry scientist: "'I'm interested in words. They're fun," — Froin TIMI'I Obey the tral fie signs — they are placed there for Y U 13 ll SAFETY INDIFFERENT - Television star Joyce Davidson munches e piece of fruit in Toronto. She created an uproar when she declared on a U.S. TV show that she was "indifferent" to Queen Elixibeth's visit to Canada. Ae i1 i ca, 7fau.� And Sp ce s rsenrAl sada Six of the country's most important pieces of missile "hardware" are Tined up for display at Lowry i,FB, Colo, Sketch at right identifies them: (1) jet -powered Matador; (2) Mace, successor to Matador; (3) jet -powered Snark, America's only operational 5,000-mile.range guided missile; (4) X-17 research rocket; (5) Bomarc, antiaircraft mis- sile; and (6) Thor -Able, space research version of the Thor intermediate-range ballistic missile.