I SHOULD have thought that if there was one branch of Britain's glorious sport that would never be modernised, it was the "three-card trick." We all know the whole thing. The elderly gentleman with the Times under his arm enters, followed at intervals by others, dressed to represent farmers, clergymen (I remember one) and then, to wind up with, the actual player, generally of a Semitic cast of features. In the old days, the venerable gentleman protested, the clergyman was shocked, and then by their own action they tempted the unwary youth to follow their example, and gamble.

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      BUT at Hurst Park, on Saturday, they varied the proceedings. We were almost on the point of starting when a disgraceful fight in the first-class compartment adjoining ours led to two gentlemanly-looking men jumping on to the platform, shockingly cut and bruised. Forthwith the gambling crowd jumped from that compartment, and opening our door with their own key, rushed in. It was no use protesting, because the London and South Western people never seem to care to interfere with any blackguard, so long as he pays his fare.

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      SO we sat and waited for the inevitable, but we got it in a new form. "'Ad a splendid day," started one man, speaking to no one in particular. "Indeed," said the venerable gentleman, peering over the top of the Times, with a guileless look, suggesting that he thought the man had been picking daisies. "Yes, 'ad a 'pony' on the three last winners." Nobody spoke, and he continued, "But it seems a bit 'awd after this to have to go down to the Aquarium, and play for four hours to-night." "Billiards?" said the venerable man. "Well, yes, in a way. We play it on a billiard-table, the size of the English, but made, like the French, without pockets." "A new game?" haphazarded the old gentleman, apparently deeply interested.

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      "WELL, not exactly. It came out in Paris three years ago, and was a big hit. I was always reckoned the English champion. They called me 'Honest Joe.' I may say I'm a member of the 'Travellers' Club' in Piccadilly. Then it went to America, and is now being played in every quarter of Australia." "A guessing game?" said the elderly man. "Well," said the man, "I'd better show you." He whipped his overcoat across his knees and arranged nine packs. "You see," he said, and then broke off. "Well, as long as there are so few of us here, we'll play it with three packs only." And before we could see what happened the familiar old English pastime was in full swing. Fortunately they were tired out at the first stopping-place, and we could continue the journey in peace.

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      BUT it is a serious question, this apathy of the London and South Western in regard to these fellows. Years ago Hurst Park, under the old management, had an evil reputation, and what can one think of it in its present state when in adjacent compartments of a first-class carriage there is a murderous fight and a gang of cardsharpers, to say nothing of the contingent language that would cause any lady to faint. Meanwhile, all honour to the London and Brighton, who have determined to stamp out the evil, cost what it may.

THE MAJOR.