uties of nature from an elevation where a false step or a
rotten rope would be passports to destruction. Then, again, people who
cross the ocean in dories, or fast for indefinite periods, have never
aroused my enthusiasm. On the contrary, I regard them as being in the
same general category with lunatics. I have never seen a bull-fight,
and I have sometimes fancied that I should be weak enough to attend one
out of curiosity if I happened to be in Spain at the right time; but I
am sure that I should never care to go twice. And yet I am expected to
feel proud and grateful because my eldest son has made prowess at
foot-ball the aim and object of his college course. I am trying to,
trying hard, but I fear it is no use. I should like to understand why
it is glorious or sensible for an honest, strapping fellow, who has
been sent to college by dint of some economy on the part of his
parents, to devote his entire energies to a course of training which
will entitle him to run the risk of having his legs, arms, or ribs
broken in fighting for a leather ball before several thousand people.
Of one thing I am certain already, even at the risk of seeming to agree
with Horace Plympton, which is, that if I had another son with like
proclivities, I should put a stop to it.

But then, as Josephine reminds me, the fact that our David does not
care a picayune for anything of the sort, robs my resolve of much of
its solemnity. I might, to be sure, interpose a mandate at this late
hour and cut off little Fred in the flower of his renown, and (to quote
my wife once more) break his heart; which might be a more serious
consequence than a broken leg. No, I am inclined to think, on the
whole, now that the mischief is done, we may as well let him follow the
path he has chosen, especially as Leggatt has his eye on him and has
promised to give him a start. We must live in the hope that the breath
will not be trampled out of him once too often before that desirable
result is brought to pass. Moreover, if he is borne of the field on a
litter, it will not be in the presence of his parents. We have seen
one gladiatorial combat, and our thirst for gore is sated.

Henceforth we shall be content to cower by the hearth on the days when
the great matches are played and fancy each ring at the door-bell the
summons of a telegraphic emissary. And by way of celebrating our first
escape from bereavement, I am going to present our David with a gold
watc