Springs.—­In Hutton’s time there was, “a short distance from Birmingham, in the manor of Duddeston, and joining the turnpike road to Coleshill,” a chalybeate spring of which he speaks very highly, though even then it was neglected and thought but little of.  In 1849 Mr. Robert Rawlinson making inquiries, was told by the Town Clerk that “the chalybeate spring in Duddeston was turned into a culvert by the railway people when the Birmingham and Liverpool Railway was constructed,” to the great regret of the inhabitants of the neighbourhood who spoke strongly of the virtues of the water in diseases of the eye.  It was suggested in 1862 that an attempt should be made to reopen the spring for public use, but as it was nobody’s business nobody did it.  There was (sixty years ago) a spring a little below Saturday Bridge opposite Charlotte Street, which always give forth a constant stream of beautifully clear soft water.  Another in Coventry Road, where 25 years or so ago an old man stooping to quench his thirst fell head foremost, and not being able to recover his equilibrium, was drowned, leading to the spring being covered up.  Several mineralised springs existed in Gooch Street, and thereabouts, and there was one that sprung out close to where Kent Street Baths are now.  The spring which gives name to Spring Street and Spring Vale, and which has been turned so that its waters run into the sewers, is estimated to discharge 20,000 gallons of pure limpid water per hour.  The little stream arising from this spring constituted part of the boundary line between the Birmingham and Edgbaston parishes and at far less cost than it has taken to waste its water it could have been utilised for the above-named Baths, less than a thousand yards off, and with a natural fall of 6ft. or 8ft.  Spring Hill takes its name from a spring now non-existent, but which was once a favourite with the cottagers who lived near to it.

Sporting Notes.—­It is not for a moment to be admitted that the men of Birmingham in past years were one whit more brutal in their “sports” than others of their countrymen, but it must be confessed they somehow managed to acquire a shocking bad name to that effect.  This of course must be laid to the credit of the local supporters of “the noble art of self-defence,” the Brummagem bruisers.  Bullbaiting and cockfighting were no more peculiar to this neighbourhood than parson-pelting or woman ducking at Coventry, where the pillory and ducking-stool were in use long after they had been put aside in Birmingham.

Archery at one period of history was so little of a sporting nature that laws were passed for the erection of shooting-butts, the provision of bows and arrows, and the enforcement of constant practice by all young men and apprentices.  The monk’s mixture of brimstone, charcoal, and salt-petre, however, in course of time left the old English clothyard shaft with its grey goose feather and the accompanying six-foot