Chapter II Implements
No game in the world is so absolutely dependent on all its various accessories as billiards. Cricket can still be played, and played well, although the pitch may be not quite first-rate, and a bit of rough ground is not fatal to a golf links; but if the room be not large and airy, if the table be ill kept, the cloth unbrushed or badly stretched, the balls foul, and the cues ill cared for, the skilful player at billiards will be reduced to the level of an ordinary performer, and anything like a decent break will be out of the question. It is, therefore, of paramount importance that all the implements connected with the game should be of the very best kind, and in the very best order.
Before dealing seriatim with the various subjects, it is with pleasure that I acknowledge the great assistance that Messrs. Burroughes & Watts and Messrs. Thurston & Co. (I place the firms in alphabetical order) have cheerfully given me—assistance without which I could not have hoped to carry out my allotted task, and with which, I fear, I have hardly done justice to the time and trouble they have ungrudgingly expended upon me. I have also to thank Messrs. Wright & Co. for the drawings of the Standard Association Pockets which appear amongst the remarks on tables.
The Room
To begin with, a room of convenient proportions must be found to accommodate the table. Good play is severely handicapped by an unsuitable room, and the essential points of a good room are worthy of careful consideration. That it must be large and airy goes almost without saying, yet, self-evident as this may seem, it is a point which is too frequently overlooked, not only in private billiard-rooms, but also in rooms where exhibition matches are constantly being played.
Amateurs, in general, are more directly interested in the rooms of clubs and private houses, concerning which there are some points which cannot well be disregarded.
And, first, as to club-rooms.
Although in these the architect has, as a rule, a free hand, yet in far too many cases the comfort of the spectator (and, as a natural corollary, the freedom of the players) is sadly neglected. It is most important for the players’ sake that spectators should be comfortably seated at a reasonable distance from the table. No man can play his best if he has constantly to turn round and look for a place for his foot amongst a crowd of friends; still less when he is haunted by the fear that the butt of his cues may at any moment come into collision with a whisky-and-soda. The older architects, as a body, seemed to consider that if the room was twenty-four feet long by eighteen feet broad, ample accommodation was provided, forgetting that the platforms, upon which the seats are placed, take up a great deal of the spare space. So that one frequently finds, in an apparently large room, that certain strokes cannot be played without placing a foot upon the platform. At one club an ingenious architect, ably abetted by an unwary committee, ran some hot-water pipes in front of the platform, and so near to the top of the table did they extend, that the well-known hazard from the top pocket off the spot became exceedingly difficult, because a player was obliged to rest one foot upon these rounded pipes, which afforded, at the best, a precarious foothold. It is of the utmost importance that the player should have plenty of room all round the table.
Another matter of importance is the position of the door. Do what you will, somebody is sure to come in ‘on the stroke,’ and, therefore, the more the door can be kept out of the line of sight the better. Obviously, the worst place for the door is at the top of the table—i.e. directly facing the player as he plays from baulk—the best place is at the bottom, and, if possible, away to the side.
In a large and modern room a light screen with peep-holes may be advantageously placed inside the door, which should be fitted so as to open and shut silently. By this means an inevitable nuisance may be brought within manageable limits.
The position of the fireplace is also important. A flickering light in the eyes of the players interferes seriously with good play; therefore, if possible, the fire should never be at the top of the table. Wherever it may be, it is well to cover the outside of the pocket facing it with green cloth, so that the light may not shine through the pocket.
The Committee of the Oriental Club have kindly permitted me to introduce a plan of their large room as an excellent example of what a club-room should be (fig. 1). As will be seen in the plan, the door is well out of the way, the seats are roomy and comfortable, capable of seating, say, fifty spectators, and—most important of all—plenty of space is left for the player all round the table. The skylight is a special feature; in most rooms its elevation is something like the annexed sketches (figs. 2 and 3).
A private house billiard-room need not be so large as a club-room, but it is essential that it should be as airy as possible, and—a most important point—it ought, if possible, to be the usual smoking-room of the house, so that it may be regularly inhabited. If this point is neglected, and the room is intended solely for billiards, a time may come when it may be left severely alone for two or three months, and the cushions will probably suffer from cold and want of play. If, however, the room be made comfortable and attractive, it will be constantly lived in, and the cushions kept at an equable temperature. Besides, the fact of the table being at hand and ready will of itself induce more play.
All this, of course, means that at one end or other of the table there must be considerably more than the regulation six feet. If one is going to build, thirty or thirty-two feet for length, and twenty feet for breadth, will give plenty of space for billiards and smoking, and be more satisfactory in the long run than a room twenty-four by eighteen at the outside.
If the plan of the house precludes the possibility of a room of this size, it should be remembered that very excellent billiard-rooms of corrugated iron, lined with felt and match-boarding, can be put up alongside a house if the requisite space can be found for them. It is also worth while to remember that thirty feet by twenty feet looks a very small plot when measured on the lawn, so that many a disused and forgotten corner might serve as a site for a noble billiard-room.
Such a room Mr. W. H. Fowler, the well-known amateur, has erected in Taunton by the side of his house. It is thirty-four feet by thirty-three feet, and is roughly of this shape (fig. 4).
The system of ventilation seems so excellent that, at my request, Mr. Samson, the architect of the room, has kindly sent me drawings which are shown under ‘Ventilation,’ and which will, no doubt, make clear what is obscure in this description.
The skylight is fitted with an exhaust cowl; and the chimney has a special ventilating flue. For cold weather, two gas-stoves of the modern hygienic type are connected with the gas-pipes, and keep the room warm enough at night to save the cushions from the effects of the severest frost. As they have come triumphantly out of the ordeal of the Siberian winter of 1894–95, it is fair to assume that outside rooms of this type can be thoroughly protected from cold with very little trouble.
The recesses on each side give ample room for smoking, whist, or writing; and the horizontal beams of the framework naturally lend themselves to the function of bookshelves, so that a variety of tastes may be satisfied. The cost of such a room would be about 300l.
As a type of an indoor room I append a rough sketch of Mr. A. Gibbs’ room at Tyntesfield, which embodies the same principle—viz. that it is an exceedingly comfortable room for smoking and writing. It is covered with a high-arched roof, so that it is always cool (fig. 5).
One can thus see that the addition of a recess or a few feet in length at once renders the room habitable and convenient.
I do not, of course, wish it to be supposed that the foregoing plans necessarily represent the best billiard-rooms of their kind in the country; they happen to be rooms with which I am familiar, and I have introduced them as illustrations merely of the principle that comfort, both for players and spectators, is a very important factor in the encouragement of good play. Every reader can, out of his personal experience, suggest to himself examples of comfortable rooms, both public and private, as good as, and possibly better, than those I have sketched.
Ventilation
One of the most difficult and most important problems in connexion with billiard-rooms is the subject of ventilation, particularly where the electric light is used. If gas be the lighting agent, the heated air can generally be drawn off by means of an exhaust cowl over the skylight; but these cowls are apt to cause a leak in the skylight fittings, and must, therefore, be erected with great care. Where the electric light is used, a small sunlight gas-burner at the bottom of the exhaust tube helps to generate a hot upward current.
Tobin tubes in the corners of the room, carried well up eight or nine feet from the ground, are valuable allies in admitting fresh air; but one great objection to them is that they usually pour the cold current upon the unprotected heads and necks of the spectators. Small boards (say six inches in height) to fit against the bottom of the windows make capital practical ‘Tobins;’ for the lower sashes can be pushed up a couple of inches without going clear of the board, and fresh air comes into the room between the sashes. Skylight sashes are not of much use, for they can only be used in fine weather, and they rarely fit tight enough to keep out really heavy rain. If we turn back for a moment to the drawing of the Oriental Club skylight, we shall see that it is a good fine-weather type. The sashes pivot on their middles and admit plenty of air, and as the coaming5 is unusually high (more than two feet), the danger of rain splashing off the flat roof through the bottom of the sashes is sensibly reduced.
Mr. Samson, the architect of the County Club at Taunton, and also of Mr. Fowler’s room, very recently showed me a system of ventilation which he had introduced into the Club billiard-room with absolute success. Fully realising the difficulty of keeping rain out and letting air in with a skylight of the ordinary type, he decided to carry the skylight the whole length of the room, so that the sashes which open at one end are far removed from the table. The skylight is of the ordinary section (fig. 6), and in order to avoid undue glare he has fitted the space between the coamings with horizontal sashes of ground glass, sliding one on another in such a way that the amount of light can be easily regulated by the marker. At one end of the skylight two vertical sashes (of the full width of the skylight) are fitted, one being above the coaming, the other in the wall below the coaming, so that it can be opened whether all the horizontal sashes be closed or not. At the other, or fireplace end of the skylight, two large gratings are fixed, one (as at the opposite end) above, the other below the level of the base of the skylight, communicating with a flue in the chimney, which is, of course, kept warm by the heat of the fire. Thus a powerful exhaust is working at one end of the room, while as much or as little fresh air as is required flows in at the other. I append a rough sketch, which may, perhaps, tend to make the description clearer (fig. 7).
The two great advantages of his plan seem to me to be, first, the risk of water on the table is greatly diminished; second, no matter how cold it be, some air can be admitted, and some can be sucked out, although the skylight may be completely shut by the closing of all the flat sashes.
In all rooms, the heating apparatus, whatever it may be, should be absolutely under the control of the players. Most of us have experienced the nuisance of hearing a fire noisily poked by a chilly spectator just in the middle of a good break; and, apart from the strain on the nerves that such interference with play causes, the question of the heat alone is one that the players should be allowed to settle for themselves. Spectators sitting near a window are apt to forget that a temperature which to them feels merely comfortable may be well-nigh intolerable to a player constantly on the move and exposed to the heat and glare of the lamp.
On such an important point as ventilation it is well worth while, if building a new room, to consult a competent architect. It may save many a headache afterwards.
Lighting
A considerable choice lies before the owner of a room. He can have electric light, or incandescent gas, or albo-carbon, or ordinary burners, or oil lamps.
If he is in the country, with no gas light and no electric light installed, he must of necessity fall back upon oil. Mineral oil is generally used, and the lamps made for the purpose appear to answer very well. One word of caution is, however, necessary. The lamps should only be put in the brackets when required, and should be removed immediately the play is over, so as to minimise the chance of oil being spilt upon the cloth. For the same reason the containers should be most carefully wiped before being put into the brackets, and with constant care of this kind no harm need happen to the table.
Glass chimneys, whether for oil or gas, are a constant source of danger. If one should break, the pieces of glass are apt to cut or scorch the cloth. They must, therefore, be very carefully handled. Chimneys of talc are now supplied, which are in every way to be preferred to the glass ones.
Of the various kinds of gas light the incandescent appears to give the most pleasant for play. The burners for this light are now fitted with a ‘bye-pass,’ which is a tiny flame never to be extinguished. With this fitting, when the gas is gradually turned on it ignites from the small leader on the bye-pass and the mantle gradually glows without a sudden shock. By this means the life of a mantle is much prolonged. If the light should be fitted without the ‘bye-pass,’ the greatest care and caution must be observed in lighting up. A spirit torch should be used, and the gas should not be turned full on at once or the mantles will soon be destroyed. It will be found advisable to hold a tray or something of the kind under the spirit torch when lighting up, to prevent any of the hot spirit falling on the cloth.
Albo-carbon lights are not often seen now. With the best attention we are told that they are absolutely inodorous, but, practically, owing to carelessness or what not, in most rooms where I have seen them used I have found a disagreeable smell.
The old ring burner (which has the merit of simplicity) is seldom used, because of the tremendous heat which it generates. One good burner of modern type under each shade ought, with fairly good gas, to be sufficient for all purposes. It will save a great deal of gas as compared with the ring burner, and will cause fewer headaches.
Of the electric light little need be said. The globes are of the ordinary pattern, and the lights should be 32–candle-power; 16–candle-power is not strong enough to light up the corner pockets, if the usual 6–light bracket is used, and it is an easy matter to shield the eyes by putting silk fringes at the bottom of the shades. It is advisable to have three or four spare globes in readiness in case of a break, and care must be taken to avoid touching the lights with a cue. If a glass does break, it will fly into thousands of pieces, and cover the table with fine particles of glass, which are troublesome to clear off without injuring the cloth.
Note by Major Broadfoot
The question of a good light on the table during the day is of great importance. For all persons daylight is probably healthier than the best system of artificial light; whilst for those whose breathing arrangements are delicate, and they, unfortunately, are many, daylight play may be almost obligatory. The main difficulty has been to provide a weather-tight skylight, and Mr. Boyd has given excellent hints and advice on the subject. It is, however, worthy of consideration whether the skylight should not be abandoned in favour of a sound roof, the light being admitted at the sides and ends of the room; at a height above the floor sufficient to prevent the glare and shadows which result from ordinary side lights. Several advantages are obvious. The roof should be more weatherproof, the room less liable to be overheated in sunny weather, the frame which carries the lighting apparatus would cast no shadow on the table, whilst, when daylight is waning and artificial light is required, the struggle for supremacy between the two, resulting in a most objectionable dark spot directly under each shade, would be avoided. Each of these considerations is of much importance, and an intelligent engineer or architect would have little difficulty in designing an arrangement to meet them. The idea may be gathered from above sketch (fig. 10).
The heat in most skylighted rooms is unendurable in summer.—W. B.
Tables
It would, no doubt, be very satisfactory if all the tables throughout the kingdom were of one uniform pattern, and more than one attempt has been made to bring about this desirable state of things. But such efforts have not been successful because the owners of the many thousand tables already in existence are naturally unwilling to spend money in alterations. And, again, individual tastes will constantly tend to develop typical differences.
The question of the size of the pockets first reached an acute form at the time when the championship was being frequently played for between Messrs. J. Roberts, jun., W. Cook, and Joseph Bennett.
The deadly effect of the spot stroke on a large pocket table was clearly recognised, and fears were already entertained that unless some radical alteration were made, all-round play would become neglected, and that the public would soon weary of watching a single stroke indefinitely repeated.6
A committee of the leading players thereupon decided that in future all matches for the championship should be played upon a table with pockets three inches at the fall of the slate, with the billiard spot a little nearer to the top cushion, and with a smaller Ｄ. This last alteration, looking to the fact that the deliberate intention of the committee was to discourage, if not kill, the spot stroke, seems curiously illogical. If the spot is to go, something must be encouraged in its stead; obviously, all-round play must be developed. Why, then, cramp in any way the latitude up till then given to a player when playing from hand?
The subsequent history of the pockets is an interesting commentary on the labours of the committee. As they had expected, the spot stroke soon failed to draw, and for exhibition purposes it is, in 1895, as dead as Julius Cæsar. But the tight pocket failed to gain popularity. Here and there a more than usually gifted amateur erected one for his own amusement; in one or two instances an enterprising billiard-room proprietor, who had other tables to fall back upon, tried one for an experiment. But these tables are and must be, for all time, caviare to the general. The reduced Ｄ has never found a place on ordinary tables, so that the result of the committee’s work is that the spot has gone, and the championship match, if there ever be one, must be played with the three-inch pocket.
Quite recently another attempt to secure uniformity has been made by the Billiard Association. Their committee, recognising the fact that the public would have nothing to say to a tight pocket, and taking a 3⅝-inch pocket as a fair average size, caused templates to be made of those dimensions, and decided that tables made with pockets accurately fitted to the aforesaid templates should be called ‘Standard Association Tables.’ In two minor respects these pockets differ slightly from what, for want of a better word, we may call ‘ordinary’ pockets—first, the shoulders of the cushions are struck with a rounder curve; second, the outer edge of the fall of the slate at the middle pocket falls slightly within the inner line of the cushion, as shown in fig. 11, where A A is the line of the cushion, C the cloth, and P the middle pocket. From this sketch it will be seen that the difficulty of middle-pocket jennies is sensibly increased.
Drawings of the Championship pockets (figs. 12, 13) and the Standard Association pockets (figs. 14, 15) are here inserted in order that the reader may compare them for himself. The drawings of the Championship pockets are taken direct from the templates in the possession of Messrs. Burroughes & Watts, and those of the Standard pockets from templates the property of Messrs. Wright & Co.
An intending purchaser has, then, to decide for himself whether he will have a Standard pocket table; an ordinary 3⅝-pocket table (and in this case the pockets of different makers will vary slightly in size and shape); or, lastly, a 3–inch pocket Championship table.
Whichever may be the pattern selected, the purchaser, if he is really fond of the game, ought to get a good table well up to ‘club’ quality. If money is no object, elaborately carved tables can be bought up to 300l. or so; but for the purposes of billiards all the carving is unnecessary. Let the bed be a thoroughly strong one, the slates of the best quality, the cushions according to the maker’s best pattern, the cloth the best of its kind, and the woodwork plain.
A plan of a billiard-table is given on p. 75, in order that the terms used in connexion with the table may be fully set forth; it is drawn on the scale shown below-⁹⁄₂₀ in. = 1 ft.
Ordinary Table
(i) Billiard spot 12¾ in. from face (or nearest point) of the top cushion.
(ii) Radius of semicircle of Ｄ, 11½ in.
(iii) Baulk-line, 29 in. from face of bottom cushion.
Championship Table
(i) 12½ in. (ii) First 9½ in. then 10 in. (iii) 28 in.
It is essential to the true running qualities, as well as to the lasting qualities of the table, that the frames (which few people ever see) should be exceedingly strong, thoroughly well seasoned, and accurately levelled. The slightest warping of these frames is fatal to the preservation of the table, and they are made, for this country at any rate, of the most carefully selected red deal. If the table is intended for the tropics, mahogany or teak should be used. As soon as the frames are bolted to the legs (which, by the way, are erected on an absolutely level base), they are carefully trimmed over with a long plane, and, until the straight-edge fairly meets the frames all over, in whatever direction it may be tried, the bed is not ready for the slate.
Slates come from the Penrhyn or Aberdovey quarries, as the case may be. Some makers prefer one quarry, others another. After they have been rough-hewn to size and thickness, they are passed through a planing machine, which reduces the surface to a rough level. They are then put into another machine and cut to size, each slate being now 2⅖ feet wide and 6 feet 1½ in. long. Then the five slates7 necessary to make a table bed are laid together upon a solid level bed, and ‘floated’ with coarse sand; then fine sand is used, and yet finer, till the face is brought to a polish. Meanwhile, every inequality is carefully tried down, so that before the slates leave the ‘banker,’ as it is called, the straight-edge must touch them fairly all over.
References to Diagram
B, B, B, B. Bed of table.
Cushion 1. Top cushion.
Cushion 2. Right top side cushion.
Cushion 3. Right bottom side cushion.
Cushion 4. Bottom cushion.
Cushion 5. Left bottom side cushion.
Cushion 6. Left top side cushion.
D. The Ｄ.
L, L. Baulk-line.
P1. Left top pocket.
P2. Right top pocket.
P3. Right middle pocket.
P4. Right bottom pocket.
P5. Left bottom pocket.
P6. Left middle pocket.
p, p, p,..., Pocket plates.
S1. The spot, or the billiard spot.
S2. Pyramid spot.
S3. Centre spot.
S4. Left spot of the Ｄ.
S5. Centre spot of the Ｄ.
S6. Right spot of the Ｄ.
Holes are bored in the sides of the slates and metal dowels leaded into one side, as shown in the sketch (fig. 17), so that each slate may fit into the next, and then large holes are drilled out on the underside of the slates and steel nuts leaded in to take the long screws which fasten the cushions firmly to the slates (fig. 18).
On the underside of each slate a bevel about two inches wide is made, in order that a chisel may be slipped between the slates to separate them when dismantling a table; and if one is far away from professional assistance, and is obliged to take down a table according to one’s own lights, it is well to look carefully for this bevel, and it may save many a cracked slate.
Various thicknesses are used, from, say, 1⅛ inch up to and over two inches, the general principle being that, the thicker the bed is, the quieter the balls run. But, as in most other things, there is a reasonable limit, because the weight of the slates increases so enormously with the increased thickness, that beyond two inches in thickness they become very difficult to handle, and the risk of damage in transport is more than proportionately increased.
Therefore, one may call two inches a reasonable maximum, and 1⅝ in. a fair minimum for the thickness of slates.
Cushions
No part of the table has undergone such radical changes in the last forty years as the cushion. Billiard-players of even twenty-five years’ experience are already beginning to forget the miseries they endured in the early days in endeavouring to make a respectable shot from under the old high cushions, and a school of billiard-players is rapidly growing up who will never realise the difficulties their fathers encountered.
I am permitted by the courtesy of Messrs. Burroughes & Watts to insert four drawings from ‘Billiards Simplified,’ which show the difference of the stroke from under the cushion—fig. 19 in 1826; fig. 20 in 1837; fig. 21 in 1869; fig. 22 in 1895.
The more the player’s cue is elevated from the horizontal, the more difficult it becomes to direct the course of the ball, and with the old high cushions it was no easy matter for an ordinary player whose ball was tight under the cushion to hit another ball at the length of the table.
But it is not only for the reduction in the height of the cushions that we have to thank the makers at the present time. The early rubber cushions were exceedingly sensitive to cold, and unless the greatest care and trouble were taken with them they became hard, untrue, and useless; and if they were once allowed to get ‘frozen,’ as it was called, they never regained their original elasticity. Five and twenty years ago it was the exception and not the rule to find a country-house table worth playing on; now, thanks to modern improvements, no one need despair of keeping his table in excellent order.
Vulcanite specially prepared was at one time recommended for country-house cushions. But although cushions of that material were unaffected by frost, they were slower and deader than ‘native’ rubber cushions, and soon became unpopular. The makers have at last found a way of preparing cushions so that with ordinary care they can be kept true and fast in all weathers, and it is possible, and indeed usual, to play in the country with the same kind of cushions as are used in the leading London clubs.
The manufacture of these cushions is a delicate piece of work; but one may say generally that the rubber is applied to the backing in thin strips, one ‘pasted’ on the top of another with some liquid preparation of india-rubber similar to, if not the same as, the stuff one uses to mend a hole in wading-stockings.
For those who wish to go deeper into the subject, a day at the Patent Office Library and a careful study of the various patents obtained by the principal makers with reference to the manufacture of cushions will prove an interesting piece of research, and will place the scientific reader in possession of information which for obvious reasons could not properly be included in the present work.
As we write, rumours of a pneumatic cushion ‘which is to supersede all others’ are widely current in the billiard world; but when one remembers the number of fair-seeming patents that have never got further than the Patent Office Library aforesaid, it would be premature to express any opinion upon the cushions until they have been thoroughly submitted to the two practical tests of time and play.
Cloths
The bulk of the cloth comes from Stroud, although a good deal is manufactured in Yorkshire, and the finest quality is passed through two steel rollers, while a sort of knife like a mowing machine removes a considerable part of the long nap. This is the kind of cloth that one sees upon the tables used for exhibition matches. It would be unsuitable for a club because, having a comparatively short nap, it would soon be rubbed smooth and bare by the incessant play, and the brushing and ironing such play involves. For country houses, however, it is the very thing. The short nap which renders it unsuitable for clubs makes it easily manageable in a private house; it requires a minimum of ironing; and even if the table be left to itself for some time, there will be no staring nap to be seen when next the table is used.
For clubs the next quality, with longer nap, is more useful; more brushing and more ironing are required, but the cloth is better fitted to resist the everlasting friction of the player’s hands and the incessant brushing that becomes, owing to the chalk from many cues, an almost hourly function.
And here, notwithstanding all that has been said and written about the subject, let me say that the ironing in club-rooms is in most instances very much overdone. It is not altogether the marker’s fault; members complain that the table is running slow, and on goes the iron as a matter of course, generally far too hot. Nearly every marker will tell you that the iron is no use unless it is thoroughly hot; what he means is, that he cannot get the glaze upon the cloth without it; but the proper answer is that nobody wants, or ought to want, the glaze, and that it is directly detrimental to scientific billiards. The cooler you can use the iron and keep the table in order, the better for the life of the cloth and the better for the club play.
At the seaside, or in any damp climate, constant ironing becomes a necessity, in order to thoroughly dry the cloth, but even under such circumstances there is no necessity to scorch it.
A good cloth can be told by the feel only; it should be firm and leathery, closely woven, and not too elastic.
In such an important matter as a cloth, however, a purchaser would be well advised to place himself unreservedly in the manufacturers’ hands, and leave the selection to them.
To Erect a Table
Having fixed upon a suitable foundation (and for this a competent architect should be consulted), stand the legs up in the places they will occupy; fit the frames (which are all numbered) into the mortices, and screw the frames to the legs with the long bolts provided for the purpose.
At this stage it will be well to set about levelling, before the weight of the slates comes upon the bed, and if you get your wedges in now, you can more readily knock them a little further when the table is completely put together than if you had left them to be inserted last of all.
Having thus got the bed level, lift the slates on carefully, and lay them on the bed an inch or two apart. Place the centre slate accurately in position, slide the next one up against it, and enter the dowels of the one into the corresponding holes of the other fairly and squarely; proceed in like manner with the other slates till they are all joined. If there be any cracks in the upper edges of any of the slates, fill them in with plaster of Paris.
Lay on the cloth, taking care that the right side is uppermost, that the nap runs from what is to be the bottom of the table towards the top, and that the cloth is square to the table. Go to the top of the table, drive in a couple of tacks,8 and then go to the bottom of the table, pull the cloth tight, and drive in two more tacks on the middle line. Then stand at one of the middle pockets, pull the cloth a little towards you, and tack it lightly on each side of the pocket; next go over to the opposite middle pocket, pull the cloth tight and tack it as before. Then at each of the middle pockets in succession take a good handful of cloth and a good pull and tack what you get underneath the pocket. Smooth out the cloth over the fall of these pockets, but do not at present trouble about a wrinkle or two, as they will be smoothed out later. Get somebody to hold the cloth firmly at the middle pocket, and go yourself to the corner pocket and pull along the side of the table, using considerable strength; proceed in like manner with the other corner pockets. If all this has been done carefully, neatly, and firmly, the cloth ought to be well stretched the length and breadth of the table. The amateur will find the greatest difficulty in getting the cloth to lie smooth along the sides and ends of the table, and especially at the fall of the pockets, for the cloth must be humoured so as to come fair over the pockets without creasing. This is a work of time, trouble, and neat-handedness; you must not hurry; take plenty of time, plenty of tacks, and by degrees success may be attained.
Covering the cushions with cloth is such an exceedingly difficult and delicate operation that it should not be attempted by an amateur; very few workmen can cover a cushion as it should be covered, and, therefore, it is useless to describe the operation. It will be found prudent to order the makers to cover the cushions before sending them out; indeed, some clubs abroad have two sets of cushions, so that while one set is in use the other may be in England for repairs.
And now to put the cushions on the table. Take care that you have each one in its proper place (the cushions will be all numbered); fit them all firmly on so that the holes in the woodwork exactly coincide with the holes in the slates; push in the bolts and screw them all up hand tight. Don’t screw one as tight as you can at first, or you will strain the cushion and the nut, but when you have got them all fairly tight, set them up with the brace as tight as your strength will allow, taking care that each is similarly treated. With modern steel cushions it must be remembered that slots have to be dealt with instead of holes, and therefore the position of the cushions must be carefully measured, or one pocket will be larger than another.
Having screwed up the cushions quite tight, fit in the pocket plates and pass the long thin screws up from below through the woodwork of the cushions and screw all tight. (Some modern cushions are fixed with what are called invisible pocket plates; these have to be put into the cushions before the latter are fixed). Modern pockets are made with holes at the side closed by an india-rubber ring, so that the balls can be taken out without putting the hand into the pockets. These are an improvement on the old pattern, for the shoulders of the cushions will last longer and will not be pulled out of shape.
It now only remains to get the table quite level. Work the level about and correct any slight errors by slightly jacking up the low part, and by pushing the wedges under the nearest legs further home. Rather under-compensate at first, because if you overdo the thing at all, you will find yourself obliged to go on overdoing it till your table is eventually raised appreciably above the regulation height, which should be 2 ft. 8 in. from the floor to the cloth, not to the top of the cushions.
If obliged to put up or superintend the erection of the lighting apparatus, remember that the flame is generally three feet from the cloth.
One more word of advice. If you can secure an expert to erect your table, never do the work yourself; but if you cannot command such aid, the foregoing hints may be of service.
The spots should be of thin court plaster, and should be carefully stuck on the places shown in the diagram, p. 75.
Pipeclay, white chalk, black chalk, or a lead pencil can be used for marking a baulk-line; and, whichever you select, remember to mark the lines lightly or the cloth will soon become grooved and damaged. Pipeclay, which is the least likely to damage the table, has the drawback that it very easily rubs out, and, in consequence, involves constant ruling, so that, on the whole, a lead pencil carefully and lightly used can be recommended.
If the table be a Championship one, the position of the afore-mentioned spots and lines requires modification, as shown on p. 73.
Brushing and Ironing
It is impossible to overestimate the value of continual and regular brushing. With one of the finest quality cloths, unless the climate be damp, once or twice a week at the outside will be enough for the iron, if the brush is used as it should be. At the conclusion of play the brush should always be used freely and at once, so that all the chalk marks may be removed before they are rubbed through the cloth. Remember always to use the brush with the nap—that is, from the bottom towards the top of the table.
To iron a table properly, place the iron at A C (fig. 23), and then take it steadily along the table from A to B. Lift it off; then go back to the bottom again; put the iron down at C E, and take it along the table from C to D. Then go from E to F; and finally from G to H. Proceed then in a similar manner with the other side of the table. Avoid as much as possible letting the iron come into contact with the cushion.
It will be observed that the iron in the sketch is put down diagonally, the reason being that if, when ironing the breadth next to the side cushion, the iron comes in contact with the shoulder of the middle pocket, it will slide on harmlessly and not damage the cushion. If it were held squarely, the sharp edge of the iron might cut the cloth of the cushion.
Bear well in mind that if at any time the cloth is turned end for end, the brushing and ironing will have, as before, to go with the nap, and will, therefore, start from the top end of the table and proceed towards the bottom.
Let the iron be too cold rather than too hot. It is easy to go over the table a second time, and after a little experience the proper temperature will become known. If the cloth be once scorched it will never be satisfactory. Therefore:
Rule 1.—Never put an iron on the cloth until you have practically satisfied yourself that it is not too hot.
Rule 2.—Never iron an unbrushed cloth.
Undersized Tables
Tables can be bought 10 ft. by 5 ft., 9 ft. by 4½ ft., and so on down to 6 ft. by 3 ft. There are also combination tables which serve as dining-tables as well, and they seem to answer very well in small houses.
For the earnest student a so-called ‘spot stroke’ table 6 ft. by 3 ft., which is really a section of the top of a full-sized table, made after the fashion of the sketch (fig. 24), will afford an immense amount of amusement and practice; for, in addition to the ‘spot,’ the top of the table game, ‘rail’ cannons, &c., can be practised. The pattern of the spot stroke table is a matter of fancy and cost; the side A, B, C need have neither cushion nor pocket.
If the small tables do not satisfy the ambition of the player, he has yet another course open—viz. to get a French table, and seriously study the cannon game in all its phases; and signs are not wanting that this beautiful game, as it is becoming better known, is finding favour with advanced players.
It may not be generally known by the vast army of people who rent furnished houses for a few months at a time that billiard-tables can be hired from the leading makers by the week or the month, the rate being from, say, 2l. 2s. to 3l. 3s. a month, with a small payment in addition to cover erecting and dismantling. Lighting and all fittings are, of course, included in the above charges, and thus, without the expense of purchase, a billiard-table can be brought within anyone’s reach.
Before leaving the subject of tables, an ingenious modification of an old arrangement whereby the balls are automatically returned from the pockets to the baulk end of the table may be mentioned. It has been patented by Messrs. Orme & Sons, and will be found a convenience where no marker is kept, specially in practising losing hazards from baulk. For spot, or top of the table play, it is inconvenient; but the drawback of having to return to baulk for the ball after each hazard may be remedied by placing a plug or false bottom into each top pocket (failing anything better, a pocket handkerchief will do), so that the ball may be removed in the usual way. Mr. Rimington-Wilson has devised a mode of meeting this difficulty, and Messrs. Orme have acquired the right to use his patent.
Balls
Balls are made of various substances, generally of ivory, the standard diameter for the English game being 2¹⁄₁₆ inches.
Every practical billiard-player is painfully aware of the difficulty that exists in procuring a really satisfactory set of ivory balls. I propose, therefore, first to touch on their manufacture, then on their treatment, and finally to offer a suggestion or two as to their purchase and preservation.
It is said that only one kind of tusk, that of the female elephant, is suitable for ball-making; and the size of the tusk, again, is closely regulated by the size of the ball required; for it is important that as little as possible of the outside of the ivory should be pared away.
As the tusk comes into the workshop, the upper part (which is hollow) and the hard point are sawn off, leaving the piece from A to B (fig. 25). This is generally sawn into five blocks, each of which will eventually become a ball; these blocks are roughed out and turned into approximately spherical shape and left for about a year to season, before they are touched again, in order that the inevitable shrinking of the grain may proceed naturally and slowly.
Now, the ball from end B is closer in the grain than the ball from end B, and therefore they will differ in weight; and as it is most important that the three balls should be of equal weight, no small trouble is experienced, after finishing, in finding three that will pass the test of the balance.9 If five sets can be got out of a hundred balls, the makers are satisfied, and even then perhaps only one set will be up to match standard.
When one considers the cost of ivory, the time and delicate work involved, and the scarcity of sufficiently skilled workmen, it is small wonder that a good set of balls is an expensive luxury.
If balls are to last well, much care must be taken of them; but unhappily their ordinary treatment at a club is too severe for their delicate constitution. In many cases they are put upon the table as soon as they arrive from the makers, before they have had time to get acclimatised to the change of temperature, and, as full-sized balls are sure to seem heavy after balls that have been once or twice adjusted, the heaviest cues in the room are brought to bear upon them with literally crushing effect.
Now, as the turners have removed a little of the hard outer surface, the newly exposed surface ought to have time to harden; and, further, ivory is very susceptible to changes of temperature, sensitive to damp, and needs acclimatisation in its new home, to enable it to withstand the shock of collision without cracking. The leading players, when they get a really good set of balls, never think of playing a hard shot with them until many days, or even weeks, are gone by. Every day they take them out and gently tap them along with nursery cannons and quiet little strokes, until they are sufficiently seasoned to stand the shock of a long game; hence their balls last much longer than club balls.
Anyone who has served on the billiard committee of a London club may remember how his life has been made a burden to him by the never-ending complaints of members on the subject of balls. He might reasonably reply: ‘Gentlemen, the matter rests mainly with you; if you are determined to have good balls, you must make up your minds that they are to receive good treatment.’ But how that much-to-be-desired arrangement is to be ensured I confess I cannot say. The balls are common property, and must be as much at the service of those who know nothing and care less about the game (save as a means of whiling away an hour or two) as of the limited few to whom the difference between good and bad balls means a great deal.
Some clubs adopt the principle of paying a leading firm so much per annum (like a subscription to a lending library), upon the understanding that the firm is to change the balls as often as the club likes. This system is a bad one for makers and clubs alike. There is no inducement to the makers to send their best balls to be subjected to the severe ordeal of everyday club play. Rather do they prefer to keep such balls for customers who are able to take the greatest care of them; and it follows that makers, having from the nature of things only a few of the very best sets, cannot be blamed if they send more moderate articles to take their turn in the ‘lending library’ arrangement.
The following is, I think, a better system. Several sets of balls are bought in the rough to start with, with the date of their purchase marked on a label attached to each set. These balls are then hung in a net under the table and left undisturbed for one, two, or three years—the longer the better; they are then adjusted and hung up again; after another interval a set is again adjusted, made ready for play, and, finally, having been kept for, say, another fortnight or three weeks, is put upon the table. At the same time another set to take its place is bought in the rough, and, as every set in turn is brought into use, another rough set is purchased. By this means there are always eight or ten sets seasoning in the particular temperature for which they are required.
Every good system has its weak point, and the weak point of this one is, that it is essential to its success that the set which comes back from adjustment is the identical one which was sent. I do not suggest that the leading makers would knowingly make a mistake of this kind; on the contrary, I know as a fact that great care is taken in the turning shop to prevent any such accident; but one set of balls is very like another, and it is quite possible that an unintentional change might take place. However, with a view to render such an accident impossible, one firm, at any rate, willingly allows the man in charge of the balls to stay in the shops while they are being adjusted, so that he can take them away with him as soon as they are finished.
If neither of these systems is adopted, the best plan is to buy the balls for the ensuing billiard season in the early summer, when little or no play is going on, and keep them in the room seasoning until they are wanted in the autumn. Any time and trouble expended on their careful selection will be amply repaid before the year is out, because the balls so selected will have hardened up, and will be less liable to crack than others bought a few days before they are required for regular use.
Balls purchased from, or adjusted by, a first-class firm should not require to be tested for size and weight, because they have been accurately gauged (fig. 26) and weighed before they are sent out; but a rough-and-ready test may be useful if one finds oneself about to play in an out-of-the-way corner of the country, and one half suspects the presence of the inevitable pool ball. Place the three balls in a line touching one another and one of the cushions, and then lower the eye till the line of sight becomes a tangent to the top of the balls and the top of the woodwork of the cushion; by this means irregularity in size is easily detected. If you suspect the balls to be foul, set up balls 2 and 3 touching; note the exact spot on cushion where 3 should hit—viz. that indicated by the prolongation of a line through the centres and point of contact.
Then play the plant with ball 1 and note deviation. If in doubt whether balls or table be in fault, reverse the stroke; go to the opposite end of the table and play back over the same line. Good lines to select are the diagonals which are the longest on the table.
‘How can you tell a good ball?’ is a question that is often asked, and the late Mr. Frank Buckland answered it as follows. ‘The test is this: the ball is rolled gently along a billiard-table till it stops of its own accord. If at that moment it falls either to one side or the other, it is useless to the player; if, on the contrary, it remains motionless on the same line on which it was originally projected, it is allowed to pass muster.’ Such a test, however, would be too much for 99 balls out of 100. First, ivory is not like Whitworth steel; it is a substance of varying density, and even if by the skill of man it could be turned into an absolutely perfect sphere, it is hardly likely that the centre of gravity of each piece would coincide with the centre of the sphere; secondly, in order to make the experiment at all satisfactory, the table should be absolutely level, the cloth perfectly new, free from dirt, of the finest quality, and most carefully stretched; and, lastly, the ball must be struck exactly on its vertical centre line. Each of these conditions presents some difficulty in attainment; to combine them all is well-nigh impossible.
Every ball, to speak generally, will fall over a little, and it may be due to the failure of any one of the above conditions. Therefore, it is safer to say that the less a truly struck ball changes its horizontal axis the better ball it is. For the owner of a private table, I should say the safest way to get a good set is to ask a first-class professional player, whom he can trust, to make the selection; of course he would have to pay a good price, but he will no doubt thus get a better set than he himself could choose. If he should in this way become the fortunate possessor of a good set, he ought to lock them jealously away, only to be produced when he finds an adversary that he can trust with them; and he will find it good policy to keep another set for ordinary use.
Ivory is getting increasingly scarce, and everything seems to point to the fact that as time goes on good balls will become still more costly, and more difficult to procure; and one is led to the conclusion that the next generation will have to find some substitute, or leave billiards to millionaires. Many attempts have been made in the last few years to get over the difficulty, and composition balls of various substances have from time to time been placed upon the market; but the earlier kinds have not found much favour—first, because they were believed to be explosive; secondly, because they did not possess sufficient elasticity; and, lastly, because they showed a tendency to soil, and pick up any dirt they might happen to pass over.
About the year 1893 or 1894, however, a new composition called Bonzoline made its appearance. The makers claim for it that it is heavier (specifically) and more elastic than ivory, and, as far as observation at present goes, their claim seems to be well founded. Whether bonzoline will stand the wear and tear of everyday work as well as or better than ivory it would be premature to offer an opinion, but these balls have at least the merit of cheapness: 31s. 6d. compares very favourably with 3½, 4, or 5 guineas for a set of balls; so that, even if they do not last so long as ivory (and I do not say they do not), a purchaser would not be very much out of pocket thereby. One thing is certain, that they run very truly at first, and time will soon show whether they can be depended upon for endurance. They certainly do not appear to be explosive; they seem less affected by changes of temperature and damp than ivory; but they have the same facility for picking up dirt that the older kinds had. I cannot, however, find that washing them in tepid water injures them in the slightest degree. For pool and pyramids they represent an enormous saving in money.
They ‘come off’ at a slightly different angle to ivory—that is to say, a shade ‘squarer.’ With No. 1 strength the difference is inappreciable, but as forcing strength is reached it becomes more apparent; but in the most extreme cases it is not much, and easily provided for—indeed, with some sets it hardly exists. I am aware that there is a very general impression amongst amateurs that the difference is very great, ‘enough to ruin one’s game;’ but, for all that, it is largely a matter of imagination, and the very objectors forget that ivory sets vary considerably in the same sort of way, so that each new set wants a little knowing.
As I write I hear that somebody in Sweden has brought out at Stockholm some billiard balls of hollow cast steel. According to ‘Chambers’s Journal’ for March 1895, they are said to be of the same weight as ivory, and about a quarter of the price; they are also said to be turned, and the thickness of the skin is given as about ¹⁄₁₆ in.
Nothing apparently is mentioned as to their elasticity, and I cannot find that anyone here has seen or tried them.
Cues, Half-Butts, Rests, etc.
Cues should be made of old and carefully-seasoned wood; ash being generally used. There are three kinds—(1) plain cues; (2) French butted; (3) English butted.
The first kind are of course the cheapest, but, being made of ‘self’ wood throughout, they have more tendency to warp, and their balance is not so finely adjusted; hence one seldom sees an advanced player using a plain cue. Of the second and third kinds, the French butt is solid, the English butt is veneered on, and, therefore, if a light cue is required, a French butt cannot be selected.
In making the French butt the ebony is sawn in two Ｖ-shaped cuts, and the ash is cleared out, so that when the cue and the butt are driven together, with hot glue run in, an exceedingly tight joint is made, which never comes adrift.
In making the English butt, two broad and two narrow tapering pieces of ebony, mahogany, or other hard wood, are glued to the sides of the ash cue which have been squared off to receive them, and when the glue has thoroughly set the whole butt is planed down into shape, sand-papered, and polished. The above sketch may give a clearer idea of the process (fig. 27).
At first sight the preparation of what one may call the shaft of the cue seems simple, and a little ordinary planing all that can be required; but this is very far from being the case; indeed, the whole secret of successful cue-making lies in the careful manipulation of the ash shaft. Every piece of ash, generally speaking, will have a soft spot or two in it; and if the wood were planed carelessly all round without reference to these weak spots, the shaft would warp to a certainty, for every piece of wood has a tendency to cast towards the centre of the tree from which it was cut; therefore, the maker humours the wood and planes more from the hard grain and less from the soft, so that they may be made to balance one another; and then, if there be still a slight tendency to warp in any direction, the piece of butt on the opposite side will be made a trifle longer, so that it may have a little more leverage in counteracting the warping tendency. No doubt there are perfectly true, straight-grained pieces of ash, but they are very rare, and a leading cue-maker has told me that he doesn’t come across more than two or three in a year. All the rest require special treatment, and about three out of every dozen that come in from the seasoning shop have to be rejected as hopeless as far as cues are concerned, though they may serve for rest-handles or for dowels.
When the cues are finally turned out as finished articles, a purchaser will find a considerable range in weight, balance, size, shape of butt, and size of top to select from, showing that individual fancy is an important factor in the case. There is no magic in any particular weight, or in any particular shape or kind of grip. What a player fancies, he will play best with, and he will soon get accustomed to a particular pattern, which he ought to adhere to steadily.
Cues vary from 14 oz. in weight to 18 oz. and even 20 oz., and I have seen a few of over 20 oz.; but, speaking generally, 16 oz. to 16½ oz. is a very usual weight. Peall plays with a very light cue, about 14 oz. Roberts uses one weighing about 16 oz. Good results can, therefore, be produced with widely varying weights, and a player can suit himself. With a very heavy cue the ‘touch’ is likely to be coarse; but I have seen an amateur make over twenty spots with a cue of over 20 oz.
With regard to the top, its diameter varies from ³⁄₁₀ in. to ⁶⁄₁₀ in. for English cues, and within fair limits a medium-sized top is more easily and certainly used by ordinary players than a very fine one.
Tips
Tips are now always made abroad, and are supplied in boxes of assorted sizes, so that a purchaser is sure of finding some the size he requires.
It is essential to good play that the cue should be well tipped; and the process of tipping has been so often described in existing works on billiards, that everyone ought to be able to tip a cue for himself. The golden rule to be observed is that the top of the cue must be absolutely flat, and the tip should fit the top as closely as possible. If the tip is a well-fitting one, it should be warmed (and the top of the cue also), and stuck firmly on with cue cement. There is an ingenious little clamp to be bought, which holds the tip tightly until the cement has set. After the cement is fixed, the tip should be gently hammered until it is flat, and any overhanging leather or cement must be carefully removed, first with a knife and then with sand-paper. Avoid touching the cue itself with the sand-paper, if possible; and you will find it a good plan to wrap a piece of paper round the cue while you are rubbing the tip. If the cue be much scratched, the wood will begin to ‘stare’ and feel rough in the fingers. Nothing is so bad for the cue as the common amateur trick, at the commencement of play, of rubbing the cue from the tip, say two feet down, with coarse sand-paper. Players say they do it to clean the cue; but the best way to do that is to get a damp cloth and wipe the cue well, and then rub it hard with a dry one. By this means your cue will be very clean, slip well through the bridge, and acquire a fine, hard polish, so that it will feel much the same in damp as in dry weather.
Some players do not feel neat-handed enough to undertake the tipping of a cue; for them I would recommend a little brass plate with three spikes in it, which screws into the top of a cue shaped as in fig. 28. If the cues in a country house are so fitted, anyone can put a tip on in a couple of minutes. You have merely to put the tip on the spikes and gently hammer it home.
Another device is to fit the cue-top with a brass screw socket, into which a screw with a flat top is screwed, and the tip is fixed on the movable screw (fig. 29). The advantage of this plan is, that a player may have three or four screws all duly tipped, and as one tip wears out he simply takes out the screw and screws in another. For country-house visiting this, combined with a screw-jointed cue (fig. 30), makes a player quite independent of local cues and local tips, especially as with a jointed cue he can have a spare top joint.10
Another simple arrangement is the ivory top fitted with a screw, as shown in fig. 29.
After long service a cue will wear away at the top. It is worth remembering that such a cue need not be discarded, as it can easily be restored to its original condition. The usual remedy is an ivory top, but a better one is to get the cue spliced or fitted with a screw, according to the illustration (fig. 31). Whichever plan may be adopted, the great thing is to pick an old seasoned bit of ash, nothing being better than a piece of an old cue with a good straight grain. By adopting this plan, the top can be made as large as may be desired, and a good bit of wood in the most delicate part of the cue is ensured.
The writer has a cue with a single splice, which has been in work for years, and is so well put together that even at this time it is difficult to find the joint; but, on the whole, he ventures to think that the double splice is stronger and neater.
Half-Butts
Half-butts and long-butts, on account of their length, have to be made of pine for lightness’ sake, and little need be said about them. They are cumbrous things, and a disagreeable necessity.
It is a good plan to wipe the upper end of the butt every day with a damp cloth, and then with a dry one, because they always collect a quantity of dirt, and are apt to run stickily through the rest. If these butts were not varnished, but well polished with boiled oil, they would be much pleasanter to play with.
Rests
Rests are now usually made in the shape of a diagonal cross, the upper drawing of fig. 32, the old-fashioned pattern being very seldom seen.
The chief objection to the cross pattern is that it is troublesome to manipulate in the neighbourhood of the cushions, and some years ago Messrs. Burroughes & Watts brought out a rest which gets over the cushion difficulty very cleverly. As will be seen in the annexed drawing (fig. 33), the height can be regulated at will, and a firm rest on the cushion can be made. For some reason or other this rest has never become popular, and the cross-shaped rest still holds the field.11
That a perfect rest is still to be invented I firmly believe. A point that has never yet been met is, that the friction over the bridge of the human hand is of a quite different character to that over a brass or an ebony cross-piece, and so a cue on a rest seems to run away from a player.
Chalk
Chalk is worth attending to carefully. The most familiar kinds are the square blocks done up in green paper and the cylindrical pieces in cardboard cases. These last are turned straight out of a solid block, and are, therefore, not free from grit and other impurities; the more gritty they are the more destructive are they to the cue-tips. The square blocks are sawn from more carefully selected chalk, and are for that reason to be preferred to the cylindrical pieces. They should be dry and powdery, for a greasy chalk is not to be depended on, and it will soon make the cue-tip shiny. In fact, the great secret of chalk is to have it dry.
Attempts have been made from time to time to grind down the chalk to powder and again consolidate it; but, as foreign substances must be introduced in order to make the powder stick together and become hard enough to withstand the friction of cue-tips, the result has usually been rather a greasy mixture.
There can be little doubt that if our chemists were to go into the matter seriously they would soon give us a smooth and yet biting ‘chalk.’
Within the last few months a French firm have brought out some greenish-blue ‘chalk,’ called St. Martin chalk, which reminds one of the old green Thurston chalk one used to see thirty years ago. This new preparation seems to hold the ball very well, and does not make such a mess of the table as the old white; it is not poisonous; but—there is always a but—it is very expensive.
Marking Board
A good marking-board is essential to the comfort of the players, and the ordinary pattern, as shown in fig. 34, leaves little to be desired. Long games, however, of 400 and 500 up are not uncommon in private rooms in these days, and it would be a slight improvement if some means of scoring hundreds were introduced. I should think two slides similar to the pool slides, with 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 underneath, placed above or below each scoring-roller, would meet the case (fig. 35).
There is another pattern still fairly common which is always a nuisance, for sooner or later a mistake is sure to be made as to the twenties (fig. 36). One or other of the players will forget to move on the twenty marker when he takes the other back to zero; more advanced arithmetic is involved and another objection is that a separate board is required for pool.
Another kind of marker is a nickel-plated one let into the woodwork of the cushions, and worked by pressing a button (fig. 37). Two are placed side by side, one for each player. A further variety of the same kind is a hand marker, which is useful in a country house.
Pool Basket
If you should happen to possess a good set of pool balls, you should get a set of dummy balls, made in box-wood or inferior ivory, to shake up in the basket, for the violent shocks that real balls receive in the basket at the hands of an energetic marker are a fruitful source of cracking and faulty running.
The Half-Ball Angle
A piece of wood of about the thickness of half a ball (say 1¹⁄₃₂ in.), as shown in fig. 38, is to be bought, and will be found exceedingly useful to beginners. The idea of this invention is that by its means the angle by which a ball (fairly struck in the middle without side, No. 1 strength) is deflected from its course by colliding a half-ball with another is accurately shown (fig. 39).
Let A be the striker’s ball, and let it be required to hit the ball B exactly half-ball. Clearly the line of progression of ball A will be along the line A D. At D it is deflected in the direction of the arrow F; and the angle between F D and E D, the original course of the ball, is the amount of deflection due to collision. This will be found to amount to 33°.
Suppose, then, it is required to find the proper place to spot a ball, so as to go into a pocket half-ball off another (fig. 40).
Let O be the object ball, P a pocket. It is required to spot a player’s ball somewhere near the line A B to go into the pocket off O. Place the angle A of the instrument against the ball O in such fashion that the side A D points for the centre of the pocket. Then a ball with its centre upon the line A E produced will, if it strikes the ball O half-ball, proceed towards the centre of the pocket.
The course of the player’s ball will not be along A D, but converging upon it from a point half a diameter distant from the ball O. Hence the angle of deviation as shown by the instrument is made slightly greater than that described by the ball; that of the instrument being about 35°, the real angle being about 33°.
Of course it cannot be mathematically correct at all distances, but it is near enough for practical purposes, and will help to train the eye to estimate half-ball angles.
The two lines marked upon the upper surface of the instrument, if produced through the angle A, will give the direction taken by the object ball after collision, according as the shot is played from B or C.