Our weekly meetings, at which we came together to show in
friendly contest how much our home practice had taught us, were
held upon the village green, or rather upon what had been
intended to be the village green. This pretty piece of ground,
partly in smooth lawn and partly shaded by fine trees, was the
property of a gentleman of the place, who had presented it, under
certain conditions, to the township. But as the township had
never fulfilled any of the conditions, and had done nothing
toward the improvement of the spot, further than to make it a
grazing-place for local cows and goats, the owner had withdrawn
his gift, shut out the cows and goats by a picket fence, and,
having locked the gate, had hung up the key in his barn. When
our club was formed, the green, as it was still called, was
offered to us for our meetings, and, with proper gratitude, we
elected its owner to be our president.
This gentleman was eminently qualified for the presidency of
an archery club. In the first place, he did not shoot: this gave
him time and opportunity to attend to the shooting of others. He
was a tall and pleasant man, a little elderly. This
"elderliness," if I may so put it, seemed, in his case, to
resemble some mild disorder, like a gentle rheumatism, which,
while it prevented him from indulging in all the wild hilarities
of youth, gave him, in compensation, a position, as one entitled
to a certain consideration, which was very agreeable to him.
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