The broad pathway, between avenues on the opposite side of the Park to the Birdcage Walk, now called the Mall, derives this name from the game of “paille-maille,” which is known to have been played in France as early as the thirteenth century, and which was popular in England in the seventeenth. The locality, however, where it was first played in James I.’s time was on the northern side of the street, which is still called from it, Pall Mall. In those days fields stretched away beyond where now St. James’s Square lies, and a single row of houses lay between the playground and the Park. As the game became more the fashion, the coaches and dust were found too disturbing for enjoyment, and a new ground was laid out, running parallel to the old one, but within the Park. The game is considered by some to be a forerunner of croquet, as it was played with a ball (= _pila_) and mallet, the name being derived from these two words. One or more hoops had to be passed through, and a peg at the further end touched. The winner was the player who passed the hoops and reached the peg in the fewest number of strokes. The whole course measured over 600 yards, and was kept brushed and smooth, and the ground prepared by coating the earth with crushed shells, which, however, remarked Pepys, “in dry weather turns to dust and deads the ball.” Both Charles II. and James II. were much addicted to the game, and the flattering poet Waller eulogises King Charles’s “matchless” skill:-- “No sooner has he touched the flying ball, But ’tis already more than half the Mall.” The Park was by his time a much-frequented spot, and crowds delighted to watch the King and his courtiers displaying their dexterity. Charles II. is more intimately connected with St. James’s Park than any other great personage. He sauntered about, fed his ducks, played his games, and made love to fair ladies, all with indulgent, friendly crowds watching. He stood in the “Green Walk,” beneath the trees, to talk with Nell Gwynn, in her garden “on a terrace on the top of the wall” overlooking the Park; and shocked John Evelyn, who records, in his journal, that he heard and saw “a very familiar discourse between the King and Mrs. Nelly.” Charles’s well-known reply to his brother, that no one would ever kill him to put James on the throne, was said in answer to James’s protest that he should not venture to roam about so much without attendants in the Park. His dogs often accompanied him, and perhaps, like most of their descendants, these pets had a sporting instinct, and ran off to chase the deer. Anyhow, they managed frequently to escape their master’s vigilance, and fell a prey to the unscrupulous thief, and descriptions of the missing dogs were published in the Gazette. One, answering to the name Towser, was “liver colour’d and white spotted”; and a “dogg of His Majestie’s, full of blew spots, with a white cross on his forehead about the bigness of a tumbler,” was lost on another occasion.