the mind. The close quarters in struggling for the ball, the contests of strength and agility, will bring out dormant energies in boys, develop their pluck and manliness, give them self-confidence, and, like Nelson when a boy, they will forget or never know the meaning of fear. Cerberus may come down ever so cruelly on upturned palm, but the lads will not cry: what care they for taws or tanning when they have run the gauntlet of a dozen whirling crosses, and each one of them, like the English after Agincourt, can
"Strip his sleeve, and show his scars, |
And here Shakspere brings us to the "moving accidents" in the game. It was once a part of the players creed to believe in unpitying roughness, and the best men were noted for maiming others and following the ball in a raiding fashion, "seeking whom they might devour." That was in the days of no government, when clubs were seriously considering the propriety of attaching surgeons, and purchasing club ambulances. Happily this is changing, though not yet complete. The laws forbid spiked soles which might pierce the feet of an anta-
