H4 " MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE ! " 



All ended well. The " Evanites " were finally beaten 

 thanks, it may be, to my absence from our team. I was 

 restored to my place for the next match I don't know 

 at whose expense and there was a deadly struggle with 

 the School House, as to which the following : 



22nd Dec. 1867. 



I am sorry to say we are, after all, only second house. After 

 playing the School House two days, and neither side getting any 

 advantage, on the third day of the match, for about three quarters 

 of an hour we had the best of it, and succeeded in driving the ball 

 into their goal. Unfortunately, after this, Haslam got hit on the 

 head and was obliged to stop playing. Of course, they then 

 gradually shoved us back and sent the ball into our goal twice 

 and were considered to have won. 



Yesterday, the two houses (the School House and ours) played 

 the School ; but the School had got so many old Rugbeians 

 down that they were rather too strong. The ground was one 

 vast lake of mud, and my trousers, up to the knees, were plastered 

 half-an-inch thick. I had to cut the laces of my boots all the 

 way down. 



Last night was the Hall Supper, which went off very successfully. 

 I made a speech proposing the health of the old Rugbeians. 



Nowadays, when football is played everywhere, the 

 above details may seem of no account, but they do serve 

 to show how keen was the interest in genuine Rugby 

 football at Rugby fifty years ago, when nowhere else in 

 England was the game understood still less appreciated. 

 If it was played anywhere else than at Rugby, I, at 

 any rate, never read or heard of it. In a letter written 

 just before the one last quoted, it appears that I remained 

 in the House Twenty. Haslam was clearly a diplomatist 

 in thus making amends for the temporary disappointment, 

 and I know that Stuart Wortley also remained in the 

 Twenty, though someone else must have gone out, doubtless 

 with courteous explanations from Haslam. Evidently 

 we made mountains out of molehills during that happy 

 time of life, but I can truly say that between Stuart 

 Wortley and myself there was never the remotest touch 

 of jealous rivalry, though neither he nor I would relish 



