f you, and there will be such fun at the
lifting." This was said to me one morning about nine, just as I was
preparing to get my shaving utensils into working order before turning
out to the warehouse. Pate Brown used to make fun of me about my scanty
hirsute appendages, and many a time caused me to blush before sundry
members of the Druids when he emphatically declared that I was one of
those effeminate individuals who shaved, not because they had whiskers,
but because they hadn't. This was in September, and a more open year for
the respective chances of the clubs in the Cup had, perhaps, never come
round.

I was unattached then. I was, in fact, neither a member of the Druids
nor the Nomads, but simply a friend of both, and an enthusiastic admirer
of the game. My big brother Angus, it is true, was one of the best men
in the Conquerors, and he and I sometimes had animated discussions about
the respective merits of the clubs. "Why, Jack, this is only September,
it will be more sensible for us to postpone the affair till after the
preliminary ties. A lot of chaps to whom I have spoken consider it next
to nonsense to draw the 'sweep' so soon."

After a great deal of talking and another meeting, it was agreed to go
right ahead with the "sweep," and accordingly the necessary arrangements
were duly made, and subscribers' names taken, as well as their cash.

The warehouse of Ball & Field was the largest in the whole city. Their
trade connection extended to every known country on the face of the
globe. There was a decided charm about the way in which the firm did
business, and the kindly, not to say considerate manner, in which they
treated employes, who really deserved it. The two leading members of the
firm, in fact, were not insignificant prototypes of Dickens' Cheeryble
Brothers (with the exception that they were both married). I verily
believe that in an hour's notice a couple of excellent teams could have
been picked from the house to make a decent match of it anywhere.

The senior himself was an enthusiastic admirer of the game, and one way
or another did much to encourage it by his presence on the field at all
the big matches, and if any of the lads, such as myself, Brown, Rose,
Wilson, or M'Nab wanted away to play in a big affair, a hint reaching
the governor's ears to that effect was amply sufficient. The manager,
however, was of a different sort, he hated football like poison. He even
relegated the grand game to a