Well, once upon a time (began Mr. Boots), I was a combination of circ.u.mstances. That is to say, I went through many processes even before I became mature leather, and one afternoon I was brought to a small shoemaker's shop in Crosshill tied up in a bundle. There were lots of cuttings in that bundle--b.u.t.t, ben, wrapper, cordivan, kid, calf-skin, and even sheep-skin--but I was then a shapeless piece of wrapper, kipp, and calf-skin. When I was trysted there were few, if any, football boots made, and the old man who was entrusted with my construction was a strange old "cove." He could make a pair of ordinary boots with any one, but was not so sure about me. I was ordered by a genteel, nice-looking lad, with red cheeks and clear black eyes. He addressed the representative of St. Crispin in a musical voice, but I then formed an opinion of my future master, that he would be a little conceited and arrogant at times, and this has proved correct. The instructions about covering my soles with bars was specially impressed on the old man's memory, and every detail was carried out to the letter. When we were completed, my brother and I, you would have admired us. If it were possible to have anything handsome in the boot line, except, perhaps, a tiny, fur-lined lady's slipper, it was us. We were sewed with substantial rosen-end, the division between the inseam and soles was filled up with real leather skivings, and not the trashy "jump" which makes up the bulk of the soles of football boots nowadays. The more, in fact, I think of it, the more I am convinced that the present make of football boots is a new-fangled device in the shoemaking trade, for are they not now got up of American leather, bra.s.s nails, and other abominations, free of import duty! My master, I remember, came for me (please consider that I am also representing my brother, for, like the Siamese twins, the one can do nothing without the other) on a Sat.u.r.day.

He told the old man that he was going to play a match with the Leven Crowers that very afternoon, and must have me. I was barely finished, but Tate's son got the bars put on all right, and I was handed over to the tender mercies of my new master. He was quite delighted with my appearance, and looked with pride, and even satisfaction, on my well-polished uppers and wrapper soles. There was even a half-'un going at the paying.

The Leven Crowers were a young and powerful club, possessing more speed in running than any real football ability at the time. The club to which my master belonged was the first to introduce the new ideas in the game, as they were then called, in Scottish soil, and as there were only three clubs in existence at the time of which I am referring, the contests, as a matter of course, were few and far between, and, consequently, looked forward to with more than ordinary pleasure. The other two clubs were the Greenvale and the Kilback, but they were not of much account (so my master had often said, and he was supposed to be a good judge). I heard him say the Conquerors had "licked" these clubs over and over again, and that they weren't in the same street. When I was being laced up, however, for the fray that afternoon in the old toll-house on the road to Battlefield (the Conquerors had no such modern requisite as a pavilion then), I heard Bob Gardens express quite a different opinion about the Greenvale, and even go the length of saying that they had a draw with them on the previous evening after a hard fight. This demonstrated a fact that was useful to me in my subsequent career, viz., never to credit what other folks (especially football players) said about the ability of opponents in the heat of a tussle. Talking about the Leven Crowers, they were not to be despised. Although the haughty Conquerors had given them their first lesson in a.s.sociation football, they were fast coming up on them in some of the points of the game. I heard my owner say that the first lesson was given at Alexandria, and on that occasion the Crowers, who were then crack shinty players, arranged themselves in the field as if for a match at that ancient Scottish game.

That they had not forgotten their first game with the Conquerors was amply ill.u.s.trated in the present, which, I might again repeat, was my first outset in public life. I was stiff at first, and pressed my master's instep rather hard shortly after the kick-off. The contest was played on the Recreation Ground, and was witnessed by very few spectators. True, there were certainly many choice spirits residing near the spot, who came out to see us and enjoy a quiet outing, and have a friendly crack.

Little did these club companions imagine that that small but enthusiastic gathering of spectators was the harbinger of crowds composed of thousands of excited spectators who now a.s.semble to witness big a.s.sociation matches every Sat.u.r.day, not only to see the Conquerors, but other clubs, very slightly removed from them in ability, playing "Cup ties." The Crowers' forwards showed great pace, and one of them, Will c.u.mming, repeatedly got past me, despite the smart manoeuvring of my master. Will, however, was somewhat wild in his dribbling, and could not keep the ball close enough to his toes. Jim Wild was my master's backer up on the occasion, and as Jim was decidedly the finest dribbler that ever toed a ball, and kept his place for ten years against all comers, afterwards the pair managed to intercept c.u.mming before he got close enough on goal to make a shot. The Crowers' goalkeeper was a good one, and could clear his place of defence with great ability, but the backs were not of much account. Pate M'Wherry and Luke M'Tavish did the work at half-back, but their kicking was somewhat feeble when compared with those of the Conquerors, Tom James and Willie Keith. The Conquerors were far too anxious to score, and for some time kept up a close cannonade at their opponents' goal without effect. Bob Prentice used his hands cleverly, and, though the goal was again and again endangered, not one of the forwards on my master's side could get the ball under the tape. A fine run was made by Wild, Lucky, Grind, Short, and my master, and the ball brought up to within a few feet of the Crowers' goal, but at the last second, Johnny Forrester, one of their centre forwards, kicked it behind. This gave the Conquerors the corner flag-kick. My master, who was quite an adept at corner flag-kicks, was sent to the spot, and placed the ball in a good position, but Bob Prentice got it up in his hands at a critical moment, and threw it clear. Good runs were eventually made on both sides, and once the Crowers nearly lowered our colours, but nothing was got by either, and the game was drawn. In those days the rules observed were somewhat different from those in vogue now.

The game was far prettier. There was none of that heading which forms such important factors in the style of modern playing. When the ball was thrown in from the touch-line the rule insisted that it had first to land on the ground before being touched, and consequently head play was unnecessary, and dribbling was, as a matter of course, considered the most important point, combined with taking smart possession of the ball as soon as it touched the ground after being thrown in. My master was smart at getting on the leather, and, next to Jim Wild, he was the most accomplished dribbler in the Conquerors. If there is anyone capable of telling what he could do, 'tis I. How he used to keep my toes in a circle as he left the gra.s.s behind his heels, piloting the ball past the opposing backs, I know to my loss, and a very great depreciation in tear and wear. He was a veritable "dodger," this owner of mine. Never afraid of a charge, he would, in order either to secure the ball or keep it, attack the biggest man in an opposing team, aye, and knock him over, too. Sometimes he lost his temper when things went against him, and, while his remarks to an adversary were somewhat cutting and at times verging on impertinence, they were always within the scope of "Parliamentary." In after life, however, my master found several foemen worthy of his steel amongst backs and half-backs in the Flying Blues, the Crowers, the Cedargrove, Red Cross, and North Western, and he sometimes came off second best.

It is all very well to say that there were "great men in those days." So there were, but the same remark can be made equally applicable now, for they are even more common, and you find them scattered over the length and breadth of the land. It would decidedly weary you, my friend and reader, were I to detail all the games in which I have taken an active part, and you will at once admit that I may succeed in pleasing you better if I give a short sketch of the leading clubs and players who have wrought so hard and done so much to make the a.s.sociation game so popular. Jim Wild has been mentioned in connection with his club (the Conquerors), but it is necessary to give him a line or two more. There was no other a.s.sociation club in Scotland when the Conquerors were put into ship-shape order, and consequently no opponents to play. They could not challenge themselves to mortal combat, and there were none but Rugby clubs, whose members treated the new order of things in football as childish amus.e.m.e.nt, and unworthy of free-born Britons. "Give us," they said, "the exciting runs, the glorious tackling, the manly maul, and the beautiful dropped goal, and we will meet you a bit of the way, but not otherwise. We don't believe in loafing about the field at times, when only one or two of the side are engaged; we want to be active." "Well,"

said the Conquerors (one of whom had been offered a place in the Twenty in the Rugby match between Glasgow and Edinburgh), "you don't know a.s.sociation rules, or you would never make such absurd a.s.sertions about the new game. If there is really any inactivity in football while being played, that inaction is clearly shown in a Rugby maul, where the one half of the side are merely spectators. Besides, your game is only half football; in fact, a combination of football and handball knocked into one. Your run with the ball under the arm is only a display of speed; it has nothing whatever to do with football. We want the grand dribbling run with the ball at the toe, the smart pa.s.sing and middling of the a.s.sociation, and we will enjoy it." Such good-natured banter went on at first between two opposing interests, but by and by the difference culminated into something more.

As a sort of _quid pro quo_ for the courtesy extended to an a.s.sociation player by the Rugby contingent in the Inter-city match, Tom Chaloner, the very _beau ideal_ of a Rugby player, was asked, and promised to play in the first International a.s.sociation match at Partick in 1872. Tom even came out to the Recreation Ground at Crosshill, and practised with the Conquerors as goalkeeper, and promised well in that position, but through some cause or other he did not play when the eventful day came.

If ever a man could handle a ball and kick a goal as a quarter-back in a Rugby game, it was Chaloner. He was the pride of all the Rugby clubs in the country side, and was as well, indeed, if not better known in his brilliant career as a cricketer. Who in Scotland could bat like Tom? He was not a hitter to a particular side of the wickets; all was alike to him. He could cut, drive, hit to long and square-leg, and oh! how far!

He would have made a grand a.s.sociation football player, but he preferred to stick to the Rugby style, and was equally successful, at least to his club's satisfaction. The first match between England and Scotland at Partick, nineteen years ago (which, by the way, is worthy of note, was played by members of the Queen's Park exclusively), did a great deal to spread a.s.sociation rules in Glasgow and district, and, in fact, eventually all over Scotland. Hitherto there used to be a couple of months of interval between the end of the Rugby football season and the starting of athletics and cricket, lasting from March till May, and as the football players of the old dispensation were still in trim, but with exhausted fixtures, not a few of them, belonging to two of the leading clubs, did not consider it _infra dig._ to have a "go" at the new rules, "just to see how they could stand it."

The outcome of this hastily-formed notion was that a sort of Nomadic team, calling themselves the Western Pilgrims, was formed, and three or four matches, and good ones, too, were played between them and the Conquerors and also the Cedargrove. The Pilgrims showed themselves no mean opponents in the new game, and, after holding their own with the Cedargrove in a drawn game, had a good tussle with the Conquerors on the recreation ground at the Park, and were only beaten by a goal to none, the goal, I remember, being made in the last five minutes by Bob Gardens (who could dribble and play forward as well as keep goal). A few of the Pilgrims took kindly to the a.s.sociation rules, and while that season lasted two of the leading forwards joined the Cedargrove, and turned out capital players. Another joined the Druids, and became a famous goalkeeper, even going as far as playing for his country in the International match, and the fourth turned out a leading man in the Holyrood Crescent. Talking about the above goalkeeper, Aleck M'Gregor was one of the finest fellows that ever stood with his back to a goal.

There was the cheerful disposition, the gentlemanly demeanour to opponents or a.s.sociates whenever he appeared on the field. His knowledge of the Rugby game made him a most useful man at goal, where the keeper of that charge is the only man under a.s.sociation rules who is allowed to touch the ball with his hands. With the ordinary goalkeeper the punt-out kick, when dexterously executed, was considered the most effective mode of saving the ball from going under the tape, when the use of the hands to knock it out was not deemed necessary, but Aleck preferred the drop-kick, which is one of the redeeming features in the Rugby style of play, and this he could do almost to perfection. I have seen him (for I have, by-the-bye, taken part against him in several matches) lift a ball after it had come pretty smartly from my right toe, and dropping it on the ground before him, kick it as it rose, bounding away over the heads of the Conquerors' forwards as they besieged the goal like a hive of bees on a June morning. He had decidedly the advantage over the modern "punter," inasmuch that the leather was always sure to go higher out of reach when the place of defence was besieged, and farther out of the way of lurking backs and half-backs, who, as a matter of course, crowd down behind the forwards when an attack is made on an opponent's stronghold.

There were other instances which came to my knowledge (that is, if my reader can imagine anything so queer as a pair of boots possessing such an immensely human gift) of converts from Rugby to a.s.sociation style of play, or rather perverts, as they were designated, but enough has been said to show how a.s.sociation football gained a hold on the young and rising generation, and how it spread all over the western and north-western portion of the country, and, like the proverbial Eastern magician's wand, caused goal-posts and corner-flags to spring up in every village and hamlet with remarkable rapidity. Close to the sh.o.r.es of several Highland lochs, where a big kick by a stalwart half-back endangers the ball being swept away by the tide, one can see the game played of an evening by the village youth with great earnestness of purpose. By and by the new rules made remarkable progress, and as the public liked the game, and deserted the Rugby matches to see what they considered the most easily understood rules, the breach between the rival contingents widened, and eventually the Jews had no dealings with the Gentiles, and so they both continue playing the games they consider the best.

What changes have taken place in clubs and players during the last few years! Faces, blithe, happy faces, now gone forever, can be remembered by the old spectators, although the present scarcely ever heard their names; but I will not go very far back. Poor Dixy (for he is dead now)--well can I remember his first introduction to the Conquerors. My master had been indulging, in company with Bob Gardens, Jim Wild, Willie Keith, and others, in a punt about on the evening preceding a match with the Red Cross, and, after shaking hands and pa.s.sing the usual compliments, the practice game was started, and in it the newcomer showed well, and kicked cleverly with both feet. He was, however, just a shade too slow, and I frequently tackled him, and secured the leather, giving it a deal of "toe" after pa.s.sing close in on goal. The club were badly off for a goal-keeper after Willie Keith left for America, and, as John was not backward in making a display of his ability, he offered to act as goal-keeper. It would take too long to recount the games in which he and I were engaged in the subsequent career of the Conquerors, but an incident or two will not be considered out of place. If Dixy had one weakness more than another it consisted in a lively sense of his own importance as a crack goalkeeper, and the supposed invincible qualities of his club, which he often declared could not be beaten. He improved wonderfully in his new position, and, while playing some of the junior clubs, which were by this time beginning to spring up, it was positively amusing to see how John would advance quietly from his goal when it was besieged, and punt the ball contemptuously away with quite a crowd of young ones close up, awe-stricken at the agility shown by such a bulky form.

A few of the Red Cross and Cedargrove forwards sometimes gave him a fright, and in one match with the Leven Crowers he was fairly outwitted by Boyd and Ned M'Donald in a cup tie. I fought hard in that memorable battle myself, and never got such a saturation with water and mud in my career; but we were beaten. I will not easily forget Dixy as he came to the field on that occasion, carrying his umbrella to the goal-posts, and laying it against the left one. He, poor fellow, expected his club would have an easy victory, and this belief was shared in by not a few of the eleven besides, including my master, who had, by the way, emerged into a centre forward since the last match with the Kilmarackers, and as a consequence he gave me a deal of extra work as a backer-up to Mat.

Angus. In fact, not long after I was carefully laced and ready for the fray that wet afternoon, the Conqueror's eleven had a confab about the tactics they should pursue, and Joe Sayler, our captain (who is now no more, and lost to his club for ever), remarked it would take them all their time to beat the Crowers. He had, I could see by his anxious looks, grave doubts on the issue. At the outset of the game the rain poured down in torrents, and as most of the play was on the Crowers'

portion of the field, the umbrella was put up, amid the laughter of the partisans of John's contingent and the pent-up indignation of the followers of the Crowers, who mustered strong on the occasion, and demonstrated a strength of lungs truly astonishing. John, by and by, when the battle became hot, had to discard his old friend and comforter, and work in front of his fortress in a way that he had never done before, and when the terrible tussle ended, the Conquerors were beaten by two goals to one. When chaffed on the "umbrella incident" ever afterwards Dixy was silent, and declared that in using it he did not hold his opponents too cheaply, but simply with a desire to save himself from a ducking. John was also a capital oarsman, and when he was suddenly cut away in the pride of his manhood, he was barely 30 years of age. He was greatly lamented, and his handsome figure is missed from the football field.

John's death reminds me of a young and promising forward named Smith, who used to play on the left wing of the Cedargrove in company with a smart companion named Seward. Young Smith was a very enthusiastic football player, and missed few, if any, practice games. Poor lad, I met him twice in one season in matches with the Cedargrove, and it took all my master knew to prevent him from getting clean past the Conquerors'

backs and scoring. He was a nice dribbler, and like Fred Adamson (an old member of the same club), went straight ahead with a splendid hold of the leather. Talking about Fred, I remember that player, in company with Johnny M'Phedran and James Wilton, going for big Thomas, who was then the Conquerors' captain, and played at half-back. Thomas was an awful fellow to meet in a charge, and a hundred to one was sure to send his opponent to gra.s.s. Johnny, however, who was a little bandy-legged, held tenaciously to the ball, and while Thomas was eagerly watching his opportunity, Fred sent him flat on his back, and the ball was close on goal in an instant. There was a hard scrummage, and in the nick of time, Joe Sayler (who was then the crack sprinter of the Conquerors), dashed up and got the ball clear before it reached the keeper. Poor Smith, he caught a severe cold one evening, and eventually succ.u.mbed to a painful malady. The Cedargrove were at one time hard to beat. In fact, in the early history of the Scottish Football a.s.sociation Challenge Cup, they pressed my master's club hard for the trophy, and were only vanquished--after three games--by one goal to none.

The Red Cross were also dangerous opponents, and possessed not a few capital players. There were John Huxter, Sandy Kenneth, Jack Williams, Joe Drummond, and Bill Millins. They were not easily beaten. Sandy Kenneth, though rather a quiet-looking customer to meet in the street, developed into one of the finest half-backs that Scotland ever produced.

He was always cool and collected, and, although by no means a very hard kicker, could judge the ball to a hair-breadth. Sandy was especially clever in tackling, which he could manage without deliberate charging.

If the ball got up close on the goal which he defended, he would follow the dribblers, and with a clever manoeuvre on the left foot, obtain possession, and after nursing the ball for a few minutes, would, amid the applause of the spectators, send it spinning down the field. Then there was Bill Summons. He was rather a volatile customer, and a perfect football coquette. There was scarcely a club of any pretensions in Glasgow but what Bill had wooed. He, however, stuck well to the Red Cross, and did some splendid service in their best matches, but eventually left them and joined the Conquerors, who, by the way, were just a shade too ready to take over the best men of other clubs by holding out tempting baits in the shape of big matches. Bill, with all his faults, was a grand back, and I question if anybody in Glasgow could make a finer kick when he set his mind to it. He had his failing, to be sure, and who hasn't? He was sometimes most erratic while playing important matches, and, especially on a windy day, would make grave mistakes with too heavy kicking.

Jack Huxter, too, of the Red Cross, was a very fine player, and a "caution" to get past at back (poor fellow, he, too, like Dixy, has gone to his account). He was a dangerous man to meet in the heat of a tussle near the goal-line, and woe betide the daring forward who would attempt to take the ball from Jack there. His only weakness was a frequent desire to "go" for the man instead of the ball, and charging rather heavily. Although a back, he was by no means an inferior dribbler, and possessing good speed, sometimes astonished the members of his own club by the smart runs he would now and again make in company with the forwards when the leather was in an opponents' territory. He stuck like a veritable leech to the Red Cross, and turned out most faithfully to all their important matches. I must not forget Willie Millins, who was one of the neatest dribblers of his day. He has given up football now.

Getting a clear start, many an exciting and clever run he made for the Red Cross. I heard my master say that in a match for the a.s.sociation Cup between his club and the Cedargrove, he once made a goal after dribbling the ball almost the entire length of the field.

Then there was a lot of smaller fry, including good players belonging to the Dumbrook, North-Eastern, Gallowgate Rovers, the Locomotive Slashers, Thornians, Northern Jumpers, Edinburgh Irishmen, Partick Unfortunates, and last, though by no means least, the Flying Blues. There was no club in Scotland, except, perhaps, the Vale Crowers, that had made so much progress in the game as those Flying Blues, and few, if any, were gifted with the same amount of self-confidence. The Blues, nevertheless, had good reason to feel proud of some of their members, for they were young and active, and the very ideal of smart football players. It was a lucky thing for them when they migrated from the north and established themselves in the old ground vacated by the Cedargrove. Had it not been for that lucky arrangement, they might have wasted their football lives in obscurity, and gone down to a.s.sociation posterity "unhonoured and unsung." Their success was as remarkable as it was swift and decisive.

Possessing any amount of pluck, they tackled all and sundry in the district, and the second year, after gaining something like a first-cla.s.s reputation, won nearly every game they played. Their captain, Tom Vincent, was a grand back, and, indeed, one of the crack men in that position, of whom Scotland has now so many to select from; and then there was Bentback, Bill Donoup, Jack Drummer, and Mat Neil, all fine players at their respective positions. Never shall I forget the match between the Blues and the Conquerors for the a.s.sociation Cup a dozen years ago, about the last big match in which I took an active part. My master's team had had bad luck though, for after pressing the Flying Blues till within a few minutes of the game, the Blues beat the Conquerors by one goal to none, Bill Donoup sending the ball under goal at the last minute, although the story goes that he had a bet of a "sov." that the Conquerors would win, and it was even admitted that he was heard to say, when kicking the goal, "Here goes my blooming sovereign!"

Although now stowed away in the corner of a large chest, side by side with jerseys, caps, knickerbockers, and other football requisites, as a remnant of the glorious game, my master sometimes visits me to think over the past, and I often hear him say that, although he does not play now, he still goes to see some of the leading contests, and at them picks up many queer stories of the modern players. Last year's crack men, as he sees them crowding in his "mind's eye," are not, he says, unworthy representatives of those of the past.

_VI.--HOW CLUBS WERE STARTED LONG AGO._

When the summer game of cricket was far more extensively played in Glasgow and District than it is now, those who understood the feelings and aspirations of young men engaged in it repeatedly considered the question in all its aspects, and a combination of circ.u.mstances have occurred within the last decade which had seriously affected that game.

The City of Glasgow could not, of course, afford to remain in a stationary condition to suit the convenience of a few thousands of cricketers. New streets had to be formed, new houses built all round, and with this advance upon civilisation came the deadly blow to cricket--at least juvenile cricket--and those clubs soon disappeared from the field. Ground after ground was swallowed up, and on the scene of many a hot and exciting match blocks of houses, railway stations, churches, and public works may now be seen. The Scotch youth, and for that part of it (just to give the sentence greater weight), the British youth, loves some kind of manly sport. Cricket he could no longer play for want of good and level ground, but then there was another game which, at least, could be played or learned under easy circ.u.mstances, even on a quiet street or big "free coup," and that was a.s.sociation football. They soon took to it kindly, and many of them struggled hard and procured a ground. Not one, of course, like that on which they used to have their cricket matches long ago, but one on which Farmer Lyon grazed his cows and sheep, and they had it for a trifle. What did they care about ridges and furrows, or that it was a difficult matter to see the lower goal-posts when you were at the east end? Not a straw. The only matter which annoyed them (and this only happened occasionally) was Lyon's bull. Their club colours were red jerseys, with a small white stripe, and "Jock" (that was the animal's name), used to scatter the lads about on the Friday evenings when they were engaged in a big side.

The players generally managed to clear out in time, but the infuriated animal once goared the best ball the club had, and next morning, as they had to play the "Invincible" of Glasgow Green, a subscription had to be raised for a new one. Football can thus be played under much more favourable conditions than cricket, or almost any other out-door game, at less expense, and this, in a great measure at least, is the secret of its popularity amongst the ma.s.ses. It can also be played under nearly every condition of the atmosphere. Nothing seems to frighten the Scotch a.s.sociation football player. Rain, hail, snow, and even frost, is treated with cool indifference. In England the ball is quietly laid aside with the advent of April and forgotten till the Autumn leaves are yellow and sear, but in Scotland a.s.sociation football seems to have no recognised season at all, so far as the younger clubs and even a few of the seniors are concerned. With the sun making one's hair stick to his head with perspiration, and the thermometer at 90 degrees in the shade, they play away in the summer-time, and at Christmas attempt to dribble in half-a-foot of snow. Meantime the question about football being blotted out can, I think, be easily answered in the negative, and upon these will depend the future prospect of a.s.sociation Football in Scotland. There are, in fact, "breakers ahead," and a strong and determined hand will have to take the wheel. The greatest of these is the "professional" football player, and the next the "greed of gate-money." "O! we never heard of a professional football player in Scotland," exclaims a chorus of voices; "there is no such thing. It's only in England." My remark, of course, is only beginning to be realised. The definition of professional in athletics "is one who runs (plays) for gain." Everybody knows what that means. If you receive any money whatever, directly or indirectly, from your club (except out of the private purses of the members), you are a professional. Are there not clubs, with great reputations, who have such members? If these are allowed to continue on the club books simply because they are good players, the committee are doing a great injustice to the other members, it may be under a mistaken notion. Now, as football has always been looked upon as a purely amateur game, and played by young men for their own amus.e.m.e.nt, it is to be hoped that the day is far distant when the professional football player, or even worse, the professional football "loafer," who does not work, but preys upon his fellow-members, will appear in a general form. In all conscience, if the public wish to see professional football (and I know from experience they don't), what would they think of the All-Scotland Eleven against the Champion Eleven of England? That might sound all right, but with the recollection of how professional athletics of all kinds (with the remarkable exception of cricket) are now conducted, and their low a.s.sociations, woe betide football when the professional element is introduced. It will a.s.suredly be the signal for its decline and fall. As for the greed of gate-money, of which some clubs are so fond, much might be said. When I refer to the clubs who try to gather as much cash as they can during the season in order to pay their legitimate obligations and meet the heavy item of ground rent, I show up an honourable example, and one worthy of imitation; but when I hear of clubs who have gathered ten, yea twenty times more than is required for such purposes, and even get handsome donations besides from their patrons, deep in debt at the end of the season, I begin to wonder where all the money has gone. I ask a young gentleman who has only lately become a member, and he tells me he knows nothing about the finance committee, but throws out grave hints about sordid motives and bare-faced applications for pecuniary a.s.sistance. In this respect clubs must be above suspicion, if they want the delightful game to hold its own and prosper. As a _quid pro quo_ for this vicious practice, however, there is no game whose players are so charitable as those connected with a.s.sociation Football. There is not a club in the a.s.sociation that is not ready to play a "Charity Match," and far more has been given to the funds of charitable inst.i.tutions by the actions of a.s.sociation football clubs than all the other games in Scotland put together.

_VII.--THE GREAT INTERNATIONAL;_

OR,

_NED DUNCAN'S DREAM._

~Scotland v. America, 1901.~

While on holidays, enjoying myself at a quiet and beautiful sea-side village on the sh.o.r.es of the Firth of Clyde, I received a note from a friend reminding me that an old football chum was still on the sick list, and making little or no progress towards recovery. In fact, his life, which had recently been enfeebled by an incurable malady, was slowly but surely drawing to a close. Last time I saw him he referred to the fact that he had some MS. which he wished Mr. John M'Dowall, his successor in the secretaryship of the S.F.A., and myself, to read over, and when this came into my mind I resolved to repair to Glasgow at once, ere it might be too late.

It was just as well that I did, for poor Ned Duncan was fast sinking when I got permission from his widowed mother to visit the bedside. Ned, I may mention, was one of the most enthusiastic players of his day that ever kicked a ball, but was obliged to give up practice in consequence of the unfortunate circ.u.mstances I have just mentioned, and of late had only been a spectator at the leading games. He received me that evening with a kind smile of recognition, and his pale face beckoned me to come near. I was certainly much touched with my old friend's appearance, and tried as much as possible to cheer him, but it was of no use.

He said he knew he was going to the silent land. The doctor, in fact, had told him he had only a few days to live, and he was glad I had come to bid him farewell, and take over some straggling notes he had compiled last summer about the football of the future. "Going home one evening,"

he continued, "after an International match, I fell into a deep sleep, and had a remarkable dream. I thought I saw a great match between Scotland and America. Real genuine players glided past, scrimmaging with each other for the ball; thousands of spectators, new and beautiful youthful faces, graced the area allotted to spectators; the hum of thousands of excited voices greeted my ears, and"----Here poor Ned's voice failed.

After a few minutes repose, the old player gasped, "But what need I tell you more. Here is the MS., and make what use of it you like."

My dear old friend is now under the turf he loved so well to play on when in the zenith of his fame.

Having eventually opened the packet, the first sentence which met my eyes was "Ned Duncan's Dream; or, The Great International of 1901."

I will, therefore, leave poor Ned to tell his own tale, and what he saw in his vision, which at any rate has the merit of originality about it.

As more extraordinary dreams have come to pa.s.s, there is no saying what the beginning of the twentieth century may bring forth, for International football matches with Australia, America, and Canada have been talked of, and some of them even played, during the past year or two, and may become accomplished facts.

I must, however, return to the MS., which reads after the following style:--

"It was in April, 1901, on a Sat.u.r.day afternoon, that the Yankees came to Scotland to play a match with our crack Eleven. The Universal Postal Service, which scattered letters all over the world at the rate of one half-penny per ounce, conveyed a formal challenge from the Americans to Scotland that the Yankees would be delighted to meet an eleven of that country in an even game of football. The New World men of course meant business, and our secretary, who was a capital fellow, much liked by the Scottish Football a.s.sociation for his kind and obliging disposition, was instructed to accept the challenge and welcome the strangers to Glasgow.

"Previous to the time I speak of, the Americans had beaten the Australians and Canadians, and were considered by their own friends invincible even to the extent of a couple of goals. The Canadians, by the aid of the Electric Express Line's fast steamers, had been able to leave Montreal in the morning and return in the evening from New York, defeated but not disgraced. The Australians were a little longer on the way, as the improved appliances for driving ships had not yet attained that perfection there which had been shown in most of the ports and rivers of the British Isles. They were experimenting, however, and some good in that direction was looked for daily, and a new Express Company floated. The Americans had also beaten the Englishmen the previous year at New York, and, as their own newspapers had it, 'came over to crow in the Land o' Cakes.' The great shipping trade of the Clyde ere this was, so to speak, causing a new order of things to arise all over the world.

Large and beautifully-built steel and bronze vessels left the Clyde every day for all parts of the earth.

"They had annihilated s.p.a.ce and bridged the Atlantic in earnest, and the 'electrics' (once called steamers) could go from Glasgow to New York in little over twenty-four hours. Yes. 'Daily to New York, Montreal, California, and New Mexico. Splendid accommodation for first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers: 120 knots per hour, and no vibration.' So read the advertis.e.m.e.nt in the leading Glasgow newspapers. Why! what did it all mean? One hundred knots per hour--3000 in twenty-four hours! To New York in a day! I had certainly heard of the swallow taking an early breakfast at the uttermost part of England and picking up a late dinner on the sh.o.r.es of Africa, all in one day; but 120 knots an hour with an 'electric,'--it was just enough for flesh and blood to comprehend at once.

"'Well,' said a friend of mine with some experience in the marine engineering line, 'I have long thought on electricity as the great motive power of the future, provided it could be properly stored, and now you see what it has come to.'

"In fact, our coal supply--one of the sources of Britain's greatness--was getting exhausted, and electrical appliances had become an absolute necessity. The strain could no longer be borne of one huge vessel consuming 500 tons of coal in twenty-four hours, and those blessed electrics were not introduced a moment too soon.

"The learned men of France, who had long been working earnestly to solve the problem of electric economy, were beaten in the race, and a perfect system of stored electricity introduced and successfully applied to the propulsion of ships, patented by Professor Scotland Thomson, nephew of the late Sir William Thomson, of blessed memory.

"Lots of other remarkable events had been occurring in our history, but none so marked as the introduction of the 'electrics.' The people of Scotland had very nearly lost their individuality. Old Caledonia was to be simply a name. Englishmen invaded Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, and even _Ultima Thule_, and overran the country with their ideas of social life. They made slow progress at first, but came in hordes, and the invasion was irresistible. They, of course, introduced all their newfangled ideas about games and pastimes, and compelled us to submit.

"Parliament had got so mixed up and thoroughly disgusted with the question of Irish Home Rule, which cropped up every session, that in an evil mood it had threatened puir all Scotland with a.s.similation of the Law of Jurisprudence, but failed. King Albert the First, however, had, out of respect to the great city of Glasgow--the Second City in the Empire--created his third son Duke of Glasgow, for you must know the House of Peers was still extant, but greatly reformed and limited in power. It could only veto a law pa.s.sed by the Commons once, and there was no more about the matter.

"The match, you may be sure, was the general topic of conversation all over Scotland several weeks before it came off, and on the Friday evening, when the Americans arrived and put up at the Express Hotel, Glasgow, the excitement was great. The preparations and arrangements for the struggle were on a grand scale, and good weather alone was wanting to make it a success. That evening several of the Scotch team strolled into the billiard-room of the Express Hotel to welcome the young Americans, and had a chat with them about football in general, and the spread of the rules all over the world.