The magic of Wimbledon seems to be proof against the periodical disappearance of players who have won high honour on its courts. Lenglen, Tilden, Helen Wills and now Perry. in surrendering their titles were in turn supposed to have' robbed the annual festival of some quality which could not be replaced. The virtue must lie in the genius loci rather than in the noble phantoms who disport themselves there, for the reports suggest that the galleries have had their full measure of thrill and delight in watching the progress of the present heroes and heroines to the appointed goals. H. W. Austin has no reason to be ashamed of his defeat by Gottfried von Cramm. The German Baron was always the better player, it would seem, but the Englishman must have given him anxious moments. Had that first set gone the other way it might have taken but a little to give Austin the additional stimulus required for defeating form. As it was, the dourly contested third
to 12—must have been well worth seeing. Von Cramm is thus a finalist for the third time, His victory would be popular if only because Donald Budge has time on his side, but even though the American had to drop a set to that impudent youngster from Milwaukee who is obviously waiting for the crown, it seems as if on form the odds are slightly in favour of Wimbledon having an American champion in the All-Comers' Singles, as well as, possibly, in the women's event unless Dorothy Round decides to repeat her success of 1934, But von Cramm will deserve commiseration if he has to be content with the title of runner-up for the third year in succession,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.