When Romans Went Greyhound Racing

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 388, 23 June 1928, Page 26

When Romans Went Greyhound Racing

Sir Harry Miers, reporting to the Carnegie Trustees about, the sad lack of museums in towns, pointed to the little village of Ospringe, in Kent, and praised its collection of Roman and historic remains. Sir Henry, until lately Vice-Chan-cellor of Manchester University, has stated that over 110 towns with populations of over 20,000 have no

I have visited Ospringe (says a correspondent of the ‘Daily Chronicle”), where I discovered, in Water Lane, a Jacobean house labelled “Museum,” past which motorists hurried as if panic-stricken by the suggestion of •antiquity and mediaevalisnt. To this ignored spot came two schoolboys from Sittingbourne, each with a thirst for knowledge. And, however much adults may dis- - believe it, the lads kept Mr. Whiting, ■ the curator, talking archaeology until H his voice was husky and his throat as H dry as the bones in his show-cases.

It was an example of how museums should be run. It was too, archaeology with the lid off—a talk of penknives and pence, graves and greyhound racing, bangles, beads and bracelets, a baby's feeding bottle, flintsaws, dice and counters, hobnails, mirrors, cremation and the mystery of the Saxon woman who lived with the Romans at Ospringe long before the Saxons came. “You see, boys,” said Mr. Whiting confidentially, “we found a Roman cemetery a little way up the road a few years ago, and when we dug there was all this stuff. “Take greyhound racing. People think it is a new craze. But look at this old clasp-knife we found in a grave. It has an iron blade, a rivet, and fits into a sheath just like your penknives. “This sheath is a metal cast of a greyhound chasing a hare. The chase must have been a popular sport to be remembered on the handle of a pocket-knife. “On this vase is a stag being chased by greyhounds, and here on a bottle is another picture of a hound after a hare. “We have lots of these bottles, many of blown glass. This one was pieced together by a schoolboy. We gave him a spadeful of earth to pick out the bits, and he had them for three months before he had puzzled it out. “This skull has been examined by Sir Arthur Keith, who says it is that of a Saxon woman. How did she get into a Roman grave?

There’s a mystery for the wit of man! . “These discs of glass? Ah, they caused an argument up in London. I believe that the Romans used to cover these bits of glass with thin layers of lead and used them as mirrors. Such mirrors were unknown before the 13th century, when they were invented in Germany. “Then we discovered these tiny bits of glass which actually have the shining lead on them! . . .” Hobnails from Roman sandals, bracelets, dice and counters, hairpins and safety pins, buckles, jet and coloured beads, a family porridge dish and many other remarkable relies came under a tireless schoolboy inspection. It was rewarded by a secret. The curator explained that only poor men had been buried in the cemetery, and whispered a suggestion to the boys. The Ospringe Mystery “The real mystery of Ospringe is a rich man’s cemetery . . . some schoolboys . . . several pots . . . when we get some money we shall dig . . , the place is a bank near . . .” The boys exchanged intelligent glances and bid the curator good-bye. “We have about 1,000 visitors a year,” remarked Mr. Whiting to me. “Boys spread the news. There will be a lot of them from Sittingbourne now. In time we might even get. some of the endless procession of motorists passing through the village.’ ’