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 assistance. 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 Association Football. There is not a club in the
Association that is not ready to play a "Charity Match," and far more
has been given to the funds of charitable institutions by the actions of
Association 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 shores 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 circumstances I have just mentioned, and of late had
only been a spectator at the leading games. He received me that evening
with a kind smil