Page 3: <In another Scottish surprise, writer H.A. Kennedy enthuses about an upcoming great tournament, which we know today as London 1851. He thinks it is wonderful that people of different countries will sink their national differences and come over to the bloodless fray, in the spirit of an old Scottish refrain. The repeated words (adapted from a Robert Burns poem) map into a surprisingly obscene statement in colloquial American English:

According to the chess historian Sergeant, in A Century of British Chess (1934), Captain Kennedy was the brother of E. S. Kennedy:

<Jaenisch and Buckle (though he had entered and paid the fee) could not arrive in time; and as substitutes for them were put in <E.S. Kennedy, a brother of the Captain> and described as "a rising young amateur" at the St. George's, and M. Brodie.>

This must be Edward Shirley Kennedy, although I found no record to link them directly together. Edwards father John Hatfield Kennedy (1773-1833) was Transfer Accountant of the British East India Company.* He married in 1815 (to Harriet Shirley) and Edward was born in 1817. Possibly John was in India by 1809 (when Hugh was born) so that they were half-brothers.

Edward is only Kennedy in British censuses with middle name S.

whereas his presumed brother, Edward, <was left a sizable fortune by his father at age 16, yet lived with thieves and garrotters for a considerable while, and once walked from London to <Brighton> with a mob of tramps>.

Finally, Edward mentions chess in his book on climbing (Peaks, Passes and Glaciers (London 1862)), e. g.

<where each step is like a move at chess, — not to be made without considering its effect upon what is to follow.> and

<arranged in lines like the squares of a chessboard>.

As Larry David would say in Curb Your Enthusiasm... didn't the R.I.P. window for this man close a little while ago? :)

If this is so then he was born in Vishy Anand's hometown. There must be something in the water.

<offramp: I imagine he saw plenty of cocks up beavers in India. The dirty old git.>

<Sir, - I have had the mournful satisfaction of reading my obituary notice in The Field of Saturday last. It is not everyone who is so privileged, and I am much obliged for the friendly and flattering remarks with which you garland my tomb. But I am not dead yet; moreover, if I am to attain the age of sixty-eight, I have still some time to spend in this best of all possible worlds. Some wag has been imposing a figment upon you. Let your editorial baton smite him heavily. - Yours in the flesh, H.A. Kennedy.>