has played on a 'varsity football-team. And every boy in this room who aspires to play on a 'varsity team himself some day wants to hear from Philip Ward."
The boys showed their satisfaction by loud clapping and an eager pushing about of their chairs; and Philip Ward rose. Tall and dark, he was very handsome as he stood there in his evening clothes, and the boys all looked up at him with respectful admiration. His face, which was naturally rather severe in its clear, determined lines, lighted up as he smiled and bowed, first to Mr. Eldredge, and then, as the master sat down, to the others.
"Mr. Toastmaster and members of the St. Timothy's eleven," he began, "for certain reasons I could n't help comparing to-day's game with the last football game I ever played against St. John's. I roomed that year with Clark Harding, who was captain of the team.
"He was our best man—just as, from all I hear, Rupert Ormsby was your best man. But in the first five minutes of the game with St. John's Clark wrenched his knee, and had
