, were ready to risk anything for the sake of Bracebridge.
Gregson called them. They all saw what was required of them. Gregson
rushed in, fully meeting the ball; with a swinging leg, he gave it a
lifting kick, and sent it right over the heads of his opponents. The
little fellows rushed in behind them, and began to kick on the ball.
This compelled the big fellows once more to separate, and again to
retrograde so as to front it. Gregson, Eden, and their companions threw
themselves impetuously on it. One after the other went over it, till
the ball was hidden under a heap of boys. Barber, and some others,
dared not kick, or they would have done so; and while they were lifting
up their opponents to get once more at the ball, Ernest, Buttar,
Bouldon, and others came up to the rescue, and once more the ball was
banded backwards and forwards as furiously as ever. For long the
fortune of the day appeared as doubtful as ever. I have observed that
big boys never play so well, when opposed to others evidently smaller,
than themselves, as they do when their antagonists are of the same age
and strength as they are. This, perhaps, was one of the secrets of
Ernest's success in all the matches he played. He chose his side for
cleverness, and activity, and daring, and, what was more, they all
trusted in him, and were ready to do anything he ordered. Every now and
then there was a loud shout and a tremendous rush, and finally the ball
would come out of the _melee_ and, left in the power of a few trusted
players, could be seen flying backwards and forwards between them, each
side watching for a favourable opportunity to drive it at once home to
the goal. Now, at length, Ernest has got it. It was sent to the
extreme right of the players. This was done by a dodge of Gregson's.
He was invaluable for any movement of the sort, and staunch as steel.
Onward Ernest kicks the ball; his side rush in to prevent the approach
of their opponents, who have mostly been led off to the ground. A few
only are fully aware of what is about to occur. A few rush on
desperately to stop the progress of the ball; but the young ones are too
energetic and too quick for them. They urge it on; the rest stand for
an instant aside, to let Ernest give a last kick. It is a grand effort
of strength and skill, and the ball flies through the goal, amid the
shouts of all his side, echoed by the applause of the spectators.

Lemon and many of his supporters too