Shortly after Trevelyan was well collared by Forbes, and Porter following up obtained another touchdown; and Fox 1us quickly followed this by another. As both tries were successfully placed, Cotton House were left victorious after about three-quarters of an hour's play.

For the losers, Dobson and Yeates, forward, and Templer, Trevelyan, and Padwick behind, were most conspicuous. Templer's play deserves especial praise. For the winners, Scovell, Druitt, and Juckes (sub.) played best forward, while behind, Forbes and Porter were most serviceable. Littlefield played an uphill game most pluckily throughout, but were very much overmatched.

M.C.R.V.C.

CLASS SHOOTING.

This was finished this year in July, but we have not till now had room to insert it. The competition has been far better and the scores higher than in any previous year; notably those of O. F. Waterfield, the winner of the highest aggregate.

For third class regulation Wimbledon targets were used, as also for 2nd class; first class targets 8ft. by 6ft., bull 3ft., centre 5ft., outer rest of target.

No less than 35 passed their 3rd class first try; the following scores exceeded 60 points.

MARKSMEN'S AGGREGATES.

...

Corp. Crommelin......

Bugl. Lascelles.................. 50 35

PRIZES WERE DISTRIBUTED THUS. 1st Aggregate.-Sergt. Waterfield

195

180

Sergt. Wauchope
Lieut. Waddilove 180

200 yds. 300 yds.

Total.

44

...

39

39

38

41

35

30

37

SCHOOL HONOUR.

Edward Osborne Fountain, B.A., Scholar of Pembroke College, Cambridge, Jeaffreson Open Exhibition at St. Bartholomew's Hospital, London.

Printed by C. PERKINS & SON, at their General Printing Office, Waterloo House, Marlborough.

Corp. Prescott .........

34

SECOND CLASS.

FOOTBALL,

BY ONE WHO HAS PLAYED IT.

I SAY I am one who has played football, but I do not say that I shall play it again. Somehow, I don't think Dame Nature quite intended me to be a shining light at football: indeed, I have at present failed to discover her precise object in developing my manly form to its present elegant dimensions. I may say at once that no one would take me as a model for Hercules. My limbs are not laden with the superabundant muscle which disfigures the otherwise fine statuette in the Art Class-room.

This, however, is a detail of minor importance. My object in writing is, to impress upon the juvenile and generally speaking, impressionable portion of my readers the barbarous character of football. I shall attempt to do so by giving some small account of my own experiences in that line.

Now I say, football is a relic of barbarism. I tried to argue the point one day with the Captain of my house. I told him I wished to have leave off; I said "football is a relic of barbarism: as an advanced radical, I object to all relics of barbarism. England is a great and a free country; where freedom of

thought" I had reached this point in my discourse when my Captain informed me, with more severity than elegance, that I had better play football that afternoon. I pause amidst my remarks on the subject before me, to observe that some people regard the Captain of my house as a sort of demi-god. I regret to say that demi-gods are not open to reason, and I object to demi-gods as a natural result. The inference in connection with the Captain of my house is obvious. He is a most estimable person in many ways, but he is not open to reason on the subject of football. But I shall write for ever if I go on talk. ing about the demi-god in question, so I will return to my subject.

The game we played-I need scarcely mention that I was on lower game,-was a "friendly housematch." Why it was called friendly I don't know. The other house seemed anything but friendly I know one of them charged into me in a most unfriendly manner. No. A friendly housematch-when I am playing-is a paradox.

To proceed with my experiences. Nominally, I was playing forward. As a matter of fact, I played behind, only I wasn't allowed to pick up the ball. As an obvious result somebody-who was allowed to pick up the ball-applied most unceremonious

epithets to me and still more unceremoniously applied his boot "to help me into the squash," as he observed. He needn't think that I minded. I suppose he imagined he scored one, but I consider his whole conduct to have been wanting in the first principles of politeness. If I could, I'd have-but no matter! a time will come! (N.B. The above sounds like a quotation from somewhere-say Shakespeare.)

Well, the result of his vituperation was that I did my best to follow his advice-no doubt kindly meant -and to go into the squash." I say, I went into the squash. Consequently, I got severely kicked— on the shins. I expostulated with the person who kicked me. I spoke quite mildly; can you believe me? He told me to "shut my row." Here I will pause and offer some remarks, taking the above account as my text.

First I will call your attention to the repeated and constant rudeness which was called forth in one way or another by this so-called sport, which disgraces the nineteenth century. Three different persons in the course of about half-an-hour were wilfully and deliberately rude to me! First the Captain, whose language I have suppressed as being "worse than wicked-vulgar;" then the person-I cannot say "the gentleman "—who urged me to go into the squash; thirdly, the person who told me to "shut my row.' His remark was quite as wicked and perhaps even more vulgar than the Captain's. I quote it as an example of how people will try to be epigrammatic, at the expense of sense and grammar. How can a person "shut" a "row?" One shuts doors, boxes, and things of that sort, but I don't see my way to "shutting my row."

Revenons à nos moutons. (This is French: French is aristocratic-as a language: therefore I use it.) For the sake of the illiterate reader, I will explain that this means "return to the subject." (Note: why should "mutton" mean subject ?)

I tried hard to follow the ball, but, having at the same time a sincere regard for my shins, and some slight desire to retain a little breath in my body, I did not always run quite as fast as I could. Need I say that this entailed more objurgations? Then as a last possible escape from the language-and the boots-of the person playing "three quarters,"—I put my head down, and went into the squash. Of

course somebody tumbled down. Of course I tumbled on the top of him. What was the result? more people tumbled on top of me, and my legs were twisted at angles where they had no right to be. Personally, I felt that I was no longer responsible for my actions, and became suddenly impressed with the idea that my head was a tumbler; let me abstain from making the obvious paronomasia, (I can't degrade myself to the use of the word "pun "), on this subject. Somehow it seemed to splash up inside, if I moved with rapidity.

The sensation, however, did not last. In fact I recovered with considerable rapidity, when I saw my friend-let me call him my friend-who played threequarters. But at the same time, I decided on accepting Horace's rule and sticking to the middle course; lest by any mis-chance the boots of my friends behind or my foes in front should endanger my shins. Suddenly, when I was conveniently near the edge of the squash, I observed the ball pass into the hands of a diminutive "behind" on the other side. "Now," thought I,

"I may distinguish myself," so I rushed at the diminutive "behind:" but to my surprise, and I may say indignation, he evaded my anxious grasp, only condescending to hit me with his shoulder, in the wind. (I must apologise for this vulgar expression: but I regret to say that it is unavoidable). Then he the diminutive half-back-being collared, passed the ball to another youth, I sbould say quite as large as myself. With the desire of doing as I would be done by, I thought I should be acting only rightly if I got out of his way. I was preparing to do so, when he thought fit to change his course and make straight at me. I need scarcely state that I fell prone on the ground-for the first time: (before I had been always on top of some one else): the ground was damp: I may add that it was muddyit will do these things at Marlborough: my flannels were smeared with mire! Was not my indignation just, perfectly just ? Here was the elegant appearance of my new flannels ruined irrevocably: and all for a miserable game of football!

To proceed, I got slanged (I shudder at using this word, but how can it be avoided ?) in house-book, most undeservedly: and simply owing to my love of justice, I thought I had better not go up to the next game. Accordingly I stayed down. I am sorry to say, I was still sorrier at the time-that I was

wanted by the Captain, the demi-god, (ugh! I hate demi-gods), in Class-room on the following day. He had a fives bat in his hand. I will not enter into the harrowing details of the scene which followed: I will not speak of the disgust which the cruelty of the whole affair inspired in my breast; I will not repeat the jeers of the miserable mockers who looked on whilst I suffered: I will leave you to imagine them all. When I tell you that I had only lately lost my cushion, and that my house-master had refused me an order for a new one, you will understand the inconvenience which resulted to me. But the personal discomfort I didn't so much mind: it was the horrid lack of feeling and sympathy for a sufferer in a just cause-for I have already stated that my actions were dictated simply by my sense of justice-that was shewn by the lookers on; the gusto displayed by the captain in the execution of his odious task and of myself: the contemptible paltriness of the person who told the captain that I had cutthese were the things that filled my soul with anguish.

And now let me sum up-let me gather together and place in close proximity, so as to enhance their horrors, the many reasons why this most odious "sport"-"sport" forsooth! more like a bear-fight! -should be at once and for ever abolished.

:

:

First: the rudeness it entails-of which I have already spoken at considerable length: secondly, its brutality. For this, I need only refer you to my account of the person who kicked me-to the story of my sufferings in the squash-to the conduct of the "behind" of the opposite side. Thirdly its injurious moral effect. I distinctly heard three people say "blow" and the state of temper in which some people appeared was a disgrace to civilized society. Fourthly: it encourages the strong to lord it over the weakthat is the energetic are made inclined to "sit upon the unenergetic. (I must again apologize for the vulgarity of my language: but I fear that I am getting corrupted, as far as my lofty nature will permit). Fifthly, when people, purely from a sense of propriety and the fitness of things, avoid playing this miserable game, they are subjected to punishments such as I heve described: and sixthly, it must be degrading to witness such scenes as the one which I last wrote of. In my own case, I must add that it has created in my breast an abhorrence of an

When by this road I used to go,
A civil landlord mine was:
A Golden Apple, hanging low

From off a twig, his sign was.
My host was yonder appletree,

A right good sort of fellow! His daintiest cates he spread for me, He poured me juices mellow. Full many and many a lightsome guest Beside me in came springing: Each feasted there and sang his best, Till all with song was ringing. Midst soft green grass for sweet repose A pleasant couch I found me: Mine host himself drew fast and close His shadows cool around me. He shook his head, when, ere I went I asked him what was owing: From root to crown, till life be spent, Be blessings on him flowing!

After Uhland.

M.C. MISSION.

G.E.D.

ON Friday, November 4th, the whole School assembled at 5.30 in the Upper School-room to bear some account from the Bishop of Bedford of the general aspect of Church work in East London, and from Mr. Bailey-Churchill some details of our Tottenham Mission in particular. It were idle to attempt to reproduce the Bishop's address. None of those who heard it are likely to forget it. One would have thought that he had lived all his life among boys, instead of working for thirty years in a country parish. Grave and humorous by turns, but always manly and earnest; with his first words he caught the attention of his audience and retained it to the end. It was impossible to listen to him without feeling that in East London the right man had been found for the work-one who was a man before he was a Bishop-" a straight chap," in very truth, as a London artisan had called him, one who had the

strong brave faith to see the soul of good in things evil, and to find hope and encouragement when a weaker nature might have turned away in despair.

The Bishop spoke for nearly three-quarters of an hour, and it was somewhat hard on Mr. BaileyChurchill to have to follow such a speaker, and to have but a few minutes in which to tell us about his work. Indeed he had scarcely warmed to his subject, when the inexorable tea-bell cut him short. Let us hope, however, that, now that he has made acquaintance with the School, he will ere long pay us another visit. As it was, he was able to give a satisfactory account of the progress made in the important work of starting a Sunday school.

It may perhaps be possible before long to place in the hands of the School small plans of Tottenham parish with our district clearly marked. Such will be useful to any of us who, living in London or the neighbourhood, are able to take advantage of Mr. Bailey-Churchill's invitation and pay a visit of inspection in the holidays to our district.

The best way of reaching it is to take a ticket at Liverpoolstreet (trains 25 and 55 minutes past each hour) for Bruce Grove, a journey of 25 minutes. The line runs through Bethnal Green, Cambridge Heath, London Fields, and Hackney Downs (names which with a sad irony suggest the country scenes which have for ever fled) to Stoke Newington, Stamford Hill, and Tottenham. Occasionally a few vacant acres, and here and there green trees, remain to remind us that we are no longer in the heart of London; but these are rapidly vanishing, and will in a few years have disappeared altogether. One of the most beautiful of these surviving oases is Bruce Castle and its park, where W. Almack, eldest of three good sons of Marlborough of that name, has his school.

Bruce Grove Station is within a few minutes' walk of our district. Perhaps the best course is to enquire for the Board Schools and walk there first. On a week day the large central Hall which we have hired for temporary use on Sundays is given up to secular purposes: but those who are able to visit it on Sunday will find it filled with chairs for 450 persons, and presenting on the whole a tolerable ecclesiastical appearance.

The first sight of the district itself will probably be disappointing. One walks through street after

street of eminently respectable houses, with muslin curtains in the ground-floor windows, and the rent of which cannot be less than £25 or £30. But it would be a great mistake to infer that the class which inhabits them is one exempt from want and care. The majority of these houses contain two or three families, who have for the most part been driven hither from the lowest slums of London by the destruction of rookeries. And there is one portion of our district which should on no account be left unvisited. Around a large indiarubber factory are grouped a number of houses, little better than wooden sheds, which speak of the misery and squalor of the inhabitants in language which cannot be misunderstood. Through this part, in no way adding

to the cheeriness of the scene, run the unsightly waters of the River Lea, divided into more than one channel for purposes of navigation.

It may be well to mention that the address of the Rev. E. Bailey-Churchill is 13, Pembury Avenue, Tottenham, N.

W.M.F.

MR. CUMBERLAND'S ENTERTAINMENT.

Mr. Stuart Cumberland represents a new profession. The fact that numbers of people in this country, and in America, are believers in the socalled "phenomena of spiritualism "-endorsed as they have been, under the title of "manifestations of psychic force," by some well-known scientific and literary men-has given birth to the calling of the "exposer of spiritualism." Mr. Cumberland's efforts in this calling have enabled him to collect together with some amusing jugglery some remarkable feats of physical contortion, and at least one interesting experiment in tactical delusion, into a lively entertainment, which he gave in the Bradleian on Saturday, Oct. 29th.