The chronicles of sport and pastime from the early 'nineties down to the outbreak of the War are one long and instructive commentary on the old saying that in the long run the pupil always beats his master. At the opening of this period, though assailed in the domain of athletic sports by the Americans, and in that of cricket by the Australians, Great Britain still led the world in games and most forms of sport. At its close there was no form of organized physical effort, whether individual or collective, in which we had not been effectively challenged or defeated by the superior skill or endurance of competitors from overseas. In cricket, football, rowing, golf, polo, yachting, lawn tennis and boxing, we had met our match and more than our match; and the insular complacency which prevailed in the 'nineties had given place in certain minds to a mood of depression, made vocal in the Duke of Westminster's letter to _The Times_ in the autumn of 1913, in which he described our failure to take the Olympic games seriously and the loss of championships as "a national disaster." In the interval sport and pastime had become an international preoccupation. _Punch_ in earlier years had been strongly in favour of international contests as a means of promoting international good will. He was not so certain on this point by 1913, but it is to his credit that he viewed the whole subject in its true perspective, recognizing that the spirit in which a game was played was a truer test of sportsmanship than the achievement of success; that the best sportsmen were "good losers"; and, above all, that national efficiency did not vary directly with the number of athletic championships collected by the nation. As early as 1892 these principles emerge in his reference to a boat-race at Andrésy on the Seine, when the English crew were defeated by the French. The title of the verses, "Froggie would a-rowing go," is not promising but their spirit is excellent:-- For in spite of the brag and the bounce and the chaff, Heigho for Rowing! The Frog beat the Bull by a length and a half, With your Mossop and James, licked by Boudin and Cuzin, Heigho! says R. C. Lehmann! So in 1893 he hailed the appearance of the French crew at Henley:-- _Punch_ greets you with cheers, may your shades ne'er diminish, Though you row forty-four from the start to the finish. Only friendship could result from such contests. At the same time, in "The British Athlete's Vade-Mecum," he rebukes his countrymen's contempt for the foreigner's idea of sport. When Oxford beat Yale in the inter-University sports in 1894, _Punch_ was wise enough to foresee that the triumph was not final:-- Come again, Yale, come again, and again; Victors or vanquished such visits aren't vain. One of these days you will probably nick us. We don't crow when we lick; we won't cry when you lick us!