THE MIDNIGHT CHALLENGE;

OR,

CHRISTMAS IN RUSSIA.

(From the Russian.)

My maternal grandfather was a passionate admirer of the game of chess, and so superior a player, that at one time he was regarded as the strongest in St. Petersburgh. At the period of which I write, the only competitor that could make even games with hin, was a German player, by name Herr Laufer, a full habited man, who

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although strong as a slone," was cut off in 1785, by an attack of apoplexy, after twelve hours' meditation, over the foregoing problem, sent him as a challenge by my much honored ancestor, who had recently received it from the inventor, Philip Stamma, one of the chess-magnates of that day. The stipulation, was, "White to play and force the game in ten moves."

This grandfather of mine played regularly every day, from four in the afternoon until ten at night. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, his opponent was a very distinguished player, known as the "Old Siberian." His invariable guest on Tuesdays, was Brigadier Kotelnikoff, an amateur as enthusiastic, perhaps, as himself, but somewhat unfortunate, never having been able to see into the game beyond three moves. On Saturdays, after bathing in accordance with the national custom, my turn came. If, contrary to established usage, one of the players failed coming on the appointed day, his place was filled by Oska,† a young serf, who received the odds of a kogne," and who played standing. When at this odds he succeeded in winning, he received from his master one “tchetvertak,”§ for each mate; whenever he lost, his master invariably ordered the "dvoretski," to apply a few "oudars,"T repeating gravely, during the operation, and by way of wholesome admonition, certain chessmaxims, much after the following fashion:

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"Another time, reflect a little longer before thou playest. Get out thy kognes; establish thy piechkas,'** in the centre; avoid 'schakh,'†† by discovery, and most especially getting thy 'ferz '‡‡ hampered. Keep thy slones on the long diagonals, and be careful

to seize the open files with thy ladias.”||||

*There is here a play upon words in the Russian, entirely lost in English. Laufer (runner) is the German for the Chess-Bishop, which piece in Russian is called "slone" (elephant).

**Piechka.-Pawn, literally "little infantry soldier."

tt Schakh.-Check.

Ferz.-Queen.

§§ Slone.-Bishop, literally

Ladia.-Rook, literally, "ship."

Notwithstanding all this paternal solicitude, Oska made but little progress, and the "tchetvertaks” being decidedly in inverse proportion to the "oudars," with their Philidorian accompaniment, he was fast losing all taste for the game. At length he hit upon a means of evasion. About four o'clock, the hour for play, his reason was found to be so obscured by the fumes of certain deep potations, that he could scarcely distinguish a kogne from a slone. On these occasions Oska was ignominiously kicked out of the chess-room, and thus if he lost an occasional "tchetvertak," he was sure to get rid of the oudars." When this had been the case, my grandfather played alone; he analyzed Greco the Calabrian, Stamma, and Philidor, the only authors he ever read, or indeed regarded as entitled to any merit. So great was his antiquated prejudice in this respect, that had Mr. George Walker's chess-library, Dr. Bledow's of Berlin, or M. Alliey's of Tournon (France), fallen into his power, I really believe he would have consigned them to the flames, in imitation of the great Omar, by whom the only book spared was the Koran.

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It was my grandfather's firm conviction, that Philidor was the ne plus ultra" of chess-science, that it was impossible to excel the Calabrian in brilliant combination, and that no future problems could ever compete with the famous positions of Stamma the Arabian.

My honored relative was so great a lover of the game, that had you awakened him at any hour of the night, the words "Artamone Alexeitch, will you play a game of chess?" would find him disposed, and any objection concerning the lateness of the hour, was sure to be overruled by an order to Oska to prepare the chess-table, and set up the men.

I was yet a child when my grandfather taught me the moves; from the first I became fascinated by the game, and my master was more than satisfied with my progress. I continued gaining strength, and not unfrequently, after a sitting with my grandfather, I would lie awake half the night working out the solution of some difficul mate, or endeavoring to discover the error that had cost me a game.

The time came at length, when I was able to cope with my grandsire at the odds of the Rook, then the Knight, and subsequently

* Artamone, son of Alexis.-In Russia, courtesy requires the use ai the Christian name when addressing.

at the Pawn and move. Finally, in 1816, the 27th of June, the anniversary of the great battle of Pultawa, I gained a complete victory over him, in presence of the "Old Siberian," Brigadier Kotelnikoff, and the serf Oska.

After this I never lost my vantage ground, although my honored grandsire persisted in the belief that he was still my superior. His defeats he attributed to incidental circumstances entirely foreign to the game, asserting that I had recourse to what he termed "moral Influences;" that I diverted his attention by too much talking over the game, and that often when I had made a move, I would appear intent upon that quarter of the board where I least meditated an attack. On these occasions he would add, that if Philidor were alive he would easily win of me blindfolded at the odds of a Knight.

The latter opinion, I had the vanity to think somewhat erroneous, although while opposing my grandfather's doctrine of “moral influences," I never contested the merit of Philidor, and always subscribed to the exalted estimation in which he held that celebrated player.

My grandfather although now beginning to lose habitually against mo, still preferred me as an opponent; nothing gave him more satisfaction than occasionally winning a game from me, and unmindful of my many triumphs, the next day, with some flourish of trumpets, he would proclaim these isolated victories. The number of these decreasing yearly, he was fain to seek consolation in wreaking his vengeance on poor Brigadier Kotelnikoff. Of the latter, I cannot resist relating, that on a certain occasion, intensely absorbed in a combination he was endeavoring to carry out to the fourth move, mistaking a Rook for a biscuit, he unconsciously soaked it in a cup of tea, and paid the forfeit for his abstraction by well nigh choking to death.

One evening my grandfather lost against me six games in succession. During the whole sitting I had not uttered a syllable, keeping my eyes straight before me on the chess-board, without once turning my head to the right or left, in order to prevent my respected relative's availing himself of his usual plea of "moral influences." Our sixth game, a gambit, had run this wise :