Georges Carpentier, gentleman boxer and, incidentally, champion pugilist of Europe, went up against Battling Siki, leopard-like negro Senegalese, with the only result that could reasonably have been expected. Not quite that, perhaps--since one might have figured the Frenchman would be killed, and he wasn't.

The manly art of self defence is a splendid thing for any young man to learn. It sets him up physically; prepares him to stand his ground if assaulted; and renders the body a splendid instrument or the mind and spirit. And, for the sake of stimulating interest in the sport, contests of skill are needful.

But somehow these periodic matches for the international heavyweight championship apear to fall outside the confines of true sport. There is in them no trace of spiritual or mental quality. Brute force wins the battle.

Somewhere in the wilds of Africa, Asia or South America there is a physical giant who can take the championship away from the Senegalese. But why confine it to human beings anyway? Why not let the confessed and unpretentious brutes into the game. The prize, in the last analysis, belongs to a rhinocerous or a tiger. Mere humans should stop cluttering up the arena and make way for the real spectacle! The Boston Traveler