are not many to be seen to-day. Dogs know how to
behave now, and there is no need for them.

As their name implies, the gates were used to keep the dogs of the house
from wandering upstairs into bedrooms and other places where they had no
right.

But many people like to hear their dogs scratching at the door in the
morning.

The gates shown in our photograph are in excellent condition. They were
photographed by Mr. S. H. Wrightson, of Aldershot.

[Illustration: CRICKET & CRICKETERS]

_Pictures by Mr. "Rip."_

_Words by M. Randall Roberts_

Why is it, in these days of up-to-date cricket reporting, no one has
noticed the most striking characteristic of Ranjitsinhji's play? The
pose of W. G. Grace's tip-tilted foot as he stands at the wicket, Abel's
serio-comic expression as he cocks his eye and ambles from the pavilion,
and Mr. Key's rotundity, are as familiar as Mr. Chamberlain's eye-glass
even to the non-cricketing public; but the ballooning of Prince
Ranjitsinhji's silk shirt has hitherto been allowed to lie in obscurity.

About the silk shirt itself there is no particular mystery; dozens of
other cricketers wear one exactly like it; but none of these garments
"balloon" with the same unvarying persistence as Ranji's. Whether half a
gale is blowing on the Hove ground, or there is not enough wind to move
the flag at Lord's, the Indian prince's cricket shirt always presents
the appearance of the mainsail of a six-tonner on a breezy day in the
Solent. Anyone can satisfy himself as to the truth of this assertion by
glancing at the first illustration on page 213. The batsman's face is
concealed by his arm, and his attitude in playing the ball is almost
identical with that of hundreds of other cricketers. Yet there is no
mistaking the player. It's Ranji as plainly as if his name was printed
all over it; the curve in his shirt gives him away at once. Unkind
critics, indeed, declared that the secret of his success in Australia
was that, while the rest of Mr. Stoddart's team were panting for a
breath of fresh air with the thermometer at 100 deg. in the shade, some
mysterious Indian deity was perpetually blowing on Ranji with a thousand
cooling zephyrs. Nowadays, Ranjitsinhji's critics are becoming more
sane; but when first he burst into splendour, many of his weird strokes
were attributed to some supernatural agency. Ranji's most telling
stroke, as every cricketer knows, is what is technically known as the
"hoo