In reference to the article and illustrations on this subject in the last issue of The billiard Player, the following- most interesting letter has been received from Mr. William Price, Queen Victoria School, Dunblane, Perthshire, who writes:— The picture in the June number of the interior of a French billiard saloon of a hundred and twenty-five years ago was of peculiar interest to me. Perhaps you may like to know that I played on a table similar to that depicted, in India, only thirty years ago. I was then at Wellington, a military station in the Nilghiri hills, not far from Ootycamund, the headquarters of the Madras Army. There was there, at that time, a religious institution, presided over by two foreign Roman Catholic clergymen, which ran, as a side-line, a sort of a club for soldiers.
A billiard room, containing two of the worst tables I have ever seen, was the greatest attraction the club possessed, and, as there was no opposition within a radius of many miles, the tables were seldom vacant.
The one that I have in mind was always referred to as the "French table," and was just like the one shown in the illustration. I have no doubt whatever that it dated from the same, or even an earlier, period. The bed, which was made of wood, was covered by a cloth that may have, been green at some time. The cushions, which, by the way, were quite low, were not made of rubber. I did not notice what material was used, but it was not very resilient. The table was, like the one described in the article in "The Billiard Player," a kind of cross between a pocket table and bagatelle table."
It was very difficult to make hazards as the pockets (or cups)—of which there were six—were very small, and if the ball did not travel slowly it simply hopped over the cavity: "Side," of course, did not help at all.
The question naturally presents itself—"How, and when, did such a table get there?" May I suggest that it was probably a link with the times when the French disputed with us the right to govern India, and that men who fought against Sir Arthur Wellesley, or even Clive, may have played on it.
Should you decide to publish the foregoing, it is very likely that some of your readers may recognize an old friend in the "French table."