The performers were drawn from a special and very low caste, called Dom, who were also the leatherworkers of the community.

There appeared to be no limit to the number of players who might take part, but the number ordinarily ranged from four to twelve or more a side. The ponies which they bestrode were country bred, and as a rule came from Badakshan on the one side and Baltistan on the other, being from twelve to thirteen hands in height, sometimes rather less, exceedingly strong, wiry, and active. The players rode them with a plain snaffle and a single rein, frequently of rope; the saddles were of rather a primitive description, being sometimes little more than a rough pile or pad of thick cloth, though the better-equipped players used a saddle with a very high pummel and heavy crupper. None of them wore spurs, but they wielded a short whip suspended from the wrist. Owing, no doubt, to the small size of the ponies, a much shorter polo stick was employed than is common in England, the length being little more than three feet. The handle was of almond wood or wild cherry or bamboo, and sometimes of hazel or ash, and was fitted into a heavy plane or willow-wood head, which was apt to be curved in shape. The ball was of willow wood and very heavy, until the British officers, who habitually joined in the native game, introduced the lighter English ball of bamboo root. As far as I could ascertain there were no particular rules until the British players appeared on the scene: the hooking of sticks was freely indulged in; no scruple was entertained

about "off-side " and " glorious scuffles with indiscriminate banging and whacking took place, in which players and ponies were equally belaboured, but which neither appeared in the least to mind. The men rode with the utmost impetuosity and without a symptom of fear, and performed feats of horsemanship which, considering their primitive mounts, were truly astounding. They would charge at full speed right against the rough stone wall, being often as nearly as possible precipitated from their steeds with the violence of the impact.

crossing"; and the most

By far the prettiest sight, however, excelling in speed and grace anything seen on an English polo ground, was the fashion in which the game was opened, or resumed after a goal had been scored. Instead of the ball being thrown by an umpire into the middle of the ground, the opener of the game (or the winner of the last goal) started off at a full gallop from one corner of the ground, with the whole of the rest of the field behind him, shouting as they raced. In his hand he held the ball, and, when he came to the centre of the field, he threw it into the air and struck it a mighty blow with his polo stick as it fell, the ball describing a parabola in the air before it finally touched the ground, when not infrequently -such was the skill of the best players and the force of the stroke-it sped between the opposing goalposts and scored a goal. There was a well-known Nagar player at the time of my visit, who might usually be counted on for a goal in this fashion. The knack was sometimes, but rarely, acquired by the English players. Inever saw one accomplish the feat.

Already, however, in 1894, the picturesque practice which I have described was falling into desuetude; for, as pointed out by the British officers, it gave little or no opportunity to the defending side to save their goal. Accordingly at Baltit, the capital of Hunza, the victorious captain (usually the Raja), better mounted and more richly clad than the remainder, only galloped down one-quarter of the distance before striking off, while his adversaries, awaiting him in the centre, had a chance of intercepting the ball.

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There was another respect in which the local practice had already undergone a notable modification. In the native game, a goal was not scored until one of the victorious side had dismounted from his pony and picked up the ball, the result being a fearful mêlée, very much like a scrum" or "bully at football, in which, however, horses were mingled with human beings in the struggle, often at considerable risk to both. This rule had already been abandoned, and the goal was counted as soon as the ball had passed between the posts.

Of course, our European game is more orthodox : the ground is more even, the riders are better mounted, the rules more precise, the strokes more scientific, and the play more brilliant. But I shall never forget the spectacle of that galloping crowd of shouting men: the brightly clad Raja thundering in front; the swing of his upright polo stick; the crack as the head of the mallet unfailingly hit the falling ball; and the whiz of the latter as it flew through the air towards the enemy goal.

At Chitral, and I dare say elsewhere, the beaten side had to dance to the victors; and it was the particular pleasure of the Mehtar (afterwards, as is elsewhere related, unhappily murdered) to select as captain of the opposite team to himself, which was invariably beaten, an old gentleman who had previously made an unsuccessful attempt upon his life, and upon whom it amused him to wreak this playful revenge. The dancing that I saw at Hunza and elsewhere was not exactly what we should describe by that name in England. The dancers conducted a sort of running monologue with the members of the band, who gesticulated in reply, and followed their movements with encouraging shouts and yells. The dancing was not confined to the young; and I remember one performer, a grave and elderly individual in top-boots, with a floating brown choga or dressing-gown, who hopped about, and postured, and spun round amid the rapt admiration of the crowd. There was also a sort of sword-dance, performed by a man from Nagar with two swords.

Seven years later I saw the game played at Manipur, when I rode overland from Assam to Burma-the only Viceroy to visit that little state which ten years earlier had been the scene of one of the most frightful and inexplicable tragedies in Anglo-Indian history.

Polo in Manipur presented many similarities to the Hindu Kush game, but some remarkable contrasts. The capital being situated on a level plain in the middle of a broad valley, there was scope for a level ground of much larger dimensions than in the

mountains of the mighty Hindu Kush. Accordingly, the Manipur ground was 225 yards long by 110 broad, and was covered with very fair turf. But its most striking feature was that it had no goalposts, the ground being surrounded by a low bank about two feet high, the striking of the ball across which at either end was the Manipuri equivalent of a goal. On the western side was a stand reserved for members of the Raja's family, most of whom were good players, being well mounted and having been trained to the game from childhood. The number of players was indeterminate, the correct number being from seven to nine a side, though there was no limit. The game that I saw was one of ten a side, and it was preceded and followed by a ceremonial which undesignedly illustrated the Chinese origin of the local game and the earliest Chinese connections of the state. Before the play began, the ten players lined up in front of me, as representative of the KingEmperor in India, and prostrated themselves at full length on the ground, twice striking the soil with their foreheads; the same homage was repeated at the close of the encounter.

Unlike the practice of the Hindu Kush border, the ball was thrown into the midst of the players when the terminal lines had been crossed, or when the ball went out; but it was not rolled along the ground when thrown in, but tossed in the air, the players being at liberty to strike it before it reached the earth.

The ponies were, I thought, smaller than those which I had seen at the other end of the Indian