goal-keeper—but only the goal-keeper—frequently has it in his power to lose a match. I have heard of such a case, but it was some years ago, and it is earnestly to be hoped that such things do not occur now.
As compared with football, cricket is not so much a scene of storm and stress; its interest is spread over a wider area of time, and at the present day it would really seem that the Britisher loves football more than cricket. One reason for this is, no doubt, because cricket is on the threshold of drastic reform. As at present played, it is far too much in favour of the bat, and the matches are unfinished. But football probably will always attract the greater crowd, because a man may see the game begun and ended in an hour and a half, and the bulk of the matches are played on Saturday half-holiday afternoons, when the workmen mean to enjoy themselves, and wages jingle in their pockets. Moreover, a Britisher loves excitement, and football is the concentrated essence of excitement. There is also an element of roughness about it, not to an undue extent, but to some extent, and a Britisher loves this too; it is
