[Illustration]

The puzzle is to remove all the counters except one, and this one that is left must be No. 1.  You remove a counter by jumping over another counter to the next space beyond, if that square is vacant, but you cannot make a leap in a diagonal direction.  The following moves will make the play quite clear:  1-9, 2-10, 1-2, and so on.  Here 1 jumps over 9, and you remove 9 from the board; then 2 jumps over 10, and you remove 10; then 1 jumps over 2, and you remove 2.  Every move is thus a capture, until the last capture of all is made by No. 1.

360.—­CHESSBOARD SOLITAIRE.

[Illustration]

Here is an extension of the last game of solitaire.  All you need is a chessboard and the thirty-two pieces, or the same number of draughts or counters.  In the illustration numbered counters are used.  The puzzle is to remove all the counters except two, and these two must have originally been on the same side of the board; that is, the two left must either belong to the group 1 to 16 or to the other group, 17 to 32.  You remove a counter by jumping over it with another counter to the next square beyond, if that square is vacant, but you cannot make a leap in a diagonal direction.  The following moves will make the play quite clear:  3-11, 4-12, 3-4, 13-3.  Here 3 jumps over 11, and you remove 11; 4 jumps over 12, and you remove 12; and so on.  It will be found a fascinating little game of patience, and the solution requires the exercise of some ingenuity.

361.—­THE MONSTROSITY.

One Christmas Eve I was travelling by rail to a little place in one of the southern counties.  The compartment was very full, and the passengers were wedged in very tightly.  My neighbour in one of the corner seats was closely studying a position set up on one of those little folding chessboards that can be carried conveniently in the pocket, and I could scarcely avoid looking at it myself.  Here is the position:—­

[Illustration]

My fellow-passenger suddenly turned his head and caught the look of bewilderment on my face.

“Do you play chess?” he asked.

“Yes, a little.  What is that?  A problem?”

“Problem?  No; a game.”

“Impossible!” I exclaimed rather rudely.  “The position is a perfect monstrosity!”

He took from his pocket a postcard and handed it to me.  It bore an address at one side and on the other the words “43.  K to Kt 8.”

“It is a correspondence game.” he exclaimed.  “That is my friend’s last move, and I am considering my reply.”

“But you really must excuse me; the position seems utterly impossible.  How on earth, for example—­”

“Ah!” he broke in smilingly.  “I see; you are a beginner; you play to win.”

“Of course you wouldn’t play to lose or draw!”

He laughed aloud.

“You have much to learn.  My friend and myself do not play for results of that antiquated kind.  We seek in chess the wonderful, the whimsical, the weird.  Did you ever see a position like that?”