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The talk washed back and forth across the hulks of classic sea mysteries, new and old; of the City of Boston, which went down with all hands, leaving for record only a melancholy scrawl on a bit of board to meet the wondering eyes of a fisherman on the far Cornish coast; of the Great Queensland, which set out with five hundred and sixty-nine souls aboard, bound by a route unknown to a tragic end; of the Naronic, with her silent and empty lifeboats alone left, drifting about the open sea, to hint at the story of her fate; of the Huronian, which, ten years later, on the same day and date, and hailing from the same port as the Naronic, went out into the void, leaving no trace; of Newfoundland captains who sailed, roaring with drink, under the arches of cathedral bergs, only to be prisoned, buried, and embalmed in the one icy embrace; of craft assailed by the terrible one-stroke lightning clouds of the Indian Ocean, found days after, stone blind, with their crews madly hauling at useless sheets, while the officers clawed the compass and shrieked; of burnings and piracies; of pest ships and slave ships, and ships mad for want of water; of whelming earthquake waves, and mysterious suctions, drawing irresistibly against wind and steam power upon unknown currents; of stout hulks deserted in panic although sound and seaworthy; and of others so swiftly dragged down that there was no time for any to save himself; and of a hundred other strange, stirring and pitiful ventures such as make up the inevitable peril and incorrigible romance of the ocean.

Johnson is not the brilliant, analytical mind of Washburn, but for pure tennis genius Johnson ranks nearly the equal of Brookes. Johnson is a one-stroke player. He uses a peculiar slice shot hit from the wrist. He uses it in service, ground strokes, volleying, and lobbing.

It is a true one-stroke game, yet by sheer audacity of enterprise and wonderful speed of foot Wallace Johnson has for years been one of the leading players of America. The overwhelming success of the American Davis Cup team in 1920, when we brought back the cup from Australia was due in no small measure to the wonderful generalship displayed by one man, our Captain Samuel Hardy.

In short, I believe that the key to future tennis success lies in variety of stroke. The day of the one-stroke player is passing. Each year sees the versatile game striding forward by leaps and bounds. The future champion of the world must be a man of keen intellect, since psychology is assuming the importance that is its due. He must train earnestly, carefully, and consistently.