game absolutely needs trained goal-keepers, may be summed up in a few words. The small fields to which we are predestinated in towns and cities,—even on this continent of great lands,—and the change from carrying, to a game of accurate throwing from all positions and distances, which makes the goal a target for good shots, might be sufficient reason; and when we consider the importance of that open space being well protected when the ball is thrown to it; that it is only six feet high and wide; that the ball is only nine inches in circumference, and that the objects of posting the men would be greatly frustrated if there was no one specially charged with defence of the flags, you will, doubtless, see the necessity for a trained goalkeeper. It is difficult to write in this connection without writing of ourself, but not egotistically, we hope. Eight or nine years ago, when we defended the goal of our Club, the matches for the championship were emphatically games of defence on our part. We used to keep a score of the balls stopped during a match, and at one, in 1860, our crosse saved game fifteen times in a little over an hour, as is chronicled on the stick we
