een a goal kicked in this way hailed
with deafening cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. These
manifestations, however, were turned into low growling when the leather
was sent away by a free kick. The ladies, too, talk about "free kicks,"
"corner-kicks," "heading," "hands," "beautiful passing and dribbling,"
as if to the manner born. I cannot, however, dismiss the subject of
spectators without referring to the use and abuse of a free and
unrestrained vent to pent-up feelings. There is the low, vulgar fellow,
whose collarless neck and general coarseness of exterior and language
indicates that he possesses all the vices but none of the virtues of the
"honest working man." Work he will not, except he is compelled, and
although to "beg he is ashamed," he would be the first to do a mean
action if he had the opportunity. It is he who, by his foul tongue and
very breath, contaminates the atmosphere he breathes, and brings some of
the matches into disrepute. Unfortunately he has paid his money at the
gate (sometimes he gets over the fence), and you can't turn him out; but
he makes hundreds miserable. He is, in fact, one of the "unimproving and
irresponsible," and moral suasion has no power over his hard and stony
heart. Sometimes in an evil moment his vulgar remark is challenged by
one of the players on the contending sides, and this gives him an air of
importance. There is nothing, however, which shows a want of gentlemanly
bearing in a team more clearly than paying the least attention to
exclamations from excited spectators. They should treat them with silent
indifference, and if needs be, contempt, and play away as if there were
nobody present at all. It is sometimes, nevertheless, very hard for
country clubs to come to Glasgow and play for the city charities, and
get howled at by this class of spectators at certain stages of the game.
The great bulk of those around, however, are indignant at such conduct,
and regret it all the more on account of being utterly unable to prevent
it. There is another spectator, too, who not unfrequently forgets
himself, and he is to be found on what might be termed the "touch-line"
of society. He is the fast young man, who considers you a perfect
nonentity if you don't bet. I don't mean betting on football pure and
simple, for he only lays a few "bobs" on it, but on the latest
quotations for the Derby, the St. Leger, the Waterloo Cup, or the
University boat race. His "screw" is not very