s for
mental work, and no strength for physical work. A race exactly qualified
for the conditions to which we so freely submit it in prison. And above
those conditions that race will have no aspirations. So give them play,
glorious play, manly strife; let their hearts beat, and their chests
expand that they may breathe from their bottom lungs, that their limbs
may be supple and strong, for it will pay the nation to give Tom, Dick
and Harry healthy play.

And they long for it, do Tom, Dick and Harry! Did you ever see hundreds
of them on a Sunday morning coming up from their lairs in Hoxton,
Shoreditch, Spitalfields and Bethnal Green, to find a field or open
space in the suburbs where they might kick a football? I have seen it
scores of times. A miserable but hopeful sight it is; hopeful because
it bears testimony to the ingrained desire that English lads have for
active healthy play. Miserable because of their appearance, and because
of the fact that no matter what piece of open ground or fields they
may select, they are trespassers, and may be ejected, or remain on
sufferance only.

Happy are they if they can find a piece of land marked for sale, where
the jerry-builder has not yet commenced a suburban slum. Like a swarm
of locusts they are down on it, and quickly every blade of grass
disappears, "kicked off" as if by magic.

Old walking-sticks, pieces of lath or old coats and waistcoats serve as
goal-posts. Touch-lines they have none, one playing-ground runs across
the other, and a dozen teams are soon hard at it. They have no caps to
distinguish them, no jerseys or knickers of bright hues. There are no
"flannelled fools" among them, but quickly there are plenty of "muddied
oafs." Trousers much too long are rolled up, coats and vests are
dispensed with, braces are loosed and serve as belts. There is running
to and fro, mud, and poor old footballs are kicked hither and thither.
They knock, kick and shoulder each other, their bare arms and faces are
coated with mud, they fall over the ball and over each other. If they
cannot kick their own ball, they kick one that belongs to another team.
There is much shouting, much laughter and some bad language! and so they
go at it till presently there is a great cheer, for Hoxton has got a
second goal, and Haggerston is defeated. And they keep at it for two
long hours, if they are not interfered with, then back to their lairs
and food.

All this time good people have been in th