But alas for human regulations! There are so many ways in which remuneration can be given that the most elaborately drafted rules may not catch the infringer. It is so easy for a club to induce a good player to join them, and then - merely as a mark of esteem - contribute a hundred pounds with which to start him in business, or provide him with some other form of testimonial. And then a stalwart fellow can so easily be retained as a trainer, or caretaker, or something of that sort, that those who are determined to break the spirit of the laws will certainly find a way of doing so without infringing their letter. However, the evil is not one that has as yet caused any great inconveniences or unfairness; and although it is alleged that sooner or later the wealthier clubs will have the game entirely in their own hands, there is as yet no sign of anything of that kind.

but there is another canker to true sport that threatens mischief in the future. There is that sardonic Mephistopheles the bookmaker, who lingers in out-of-the-way places to sneak behind the elbow of the player and whisper golden promises in his ear; whose muscles, thereafter, though they show no looseness such as may be detected by a crowd, are perhaps not exerted up to the winning point.

I!ut this, in Australia, and not there only, is a jarring element in every form of healthful sport, and cannot be provided against.

Wherever manly competition occurs there will the betting man appear, and what he may in secret be able to effect as a tempter can never be with certainty discovered.

But we are forgetting to watch our game. On the sward twenty forms in blue and white and twenty in black and red are sprinkled in pairs, every blue and white having a black and red to watch him. In the middle of the field some five or six of each colour are grouped around the man in white who is the field umpire. Down goes the ball in the middle with a bounce, and as it rises stalwart arms and legs bandy it for a second till it passes clear. A player seizes it, runs, bouncing the ball as he goes; others career to meet him; he kicks; where the ball is likely to fall a concourse gathers; up go two or three figures boldly springing into the air to catch it.

This is a feature in an Australian game not so much noticed in the English, as the rules give a 'mark,' or free kick, to anyone who catches a ball from the foot of any other player, if not less than two yards away from him. Whenever the ball is seen curving through the air it becomes at all times a matter of importance to catch it. Up into the air, therefore, go the players, and it is sometimes pretty to see the neat way in which the ball is held. It is this practice which necessitates a rule forbidding anyone to interfere with a player already in the air. When he is running for the ball he may be jostled or hustled, if the hands are not used; but when he is well up in the air, to knock against his legs would probably enough bring him heavily to the ground on his side, and cause a dangerous fall Nothing of the kind occurs; or, if there is a tendency to it, the field umpire's whistle stops the play, and a free kick is given. Any serious repetition of the offence would lead to the disqualification of the player.

Yonder we see the ball being closed in by a number of crowding players! Again the whistle sounds; the field umpire hurries up, the players fall back a little, the ball is bounced, and away it goes. Soon it is over the boundary line; at once the umpire knocks it back. Now it is held by an active man who runs with it for a few yards, gives a 'little mark' to a friend, who passes it by a 'little mark' to another. He takes his kick leisurely behind his mark, but there is no lining up, there being nothing corresponding to 'off-side' in the Australian game. The ball clears the heads of the crowd; now the 'forwards' of the one team and the 'backs' of the other have to fight it out till the 'followers' come up. The ball rolls in front of the goal; the 'centre back ' tries hard to send it to the wings, but the 'centre forward' or 'goal-sneak' of the assailants gets a 'little mark' from one of his men. Being the straight kicker of his team, he takes a leisurely kick, and puts it through amid a roar of voices as though human throats were of brass.

The ball is soon back in the centre, and off it goes again, the whistle of the field umpire being heard from time to time and obeyed with instant alacrity. As in the English Association game, the play is exceedingly quick, and the crowd have to watch with the closest attention if they hope to follow all the fortunes of the ball. In the deep absorption of the game any little piece of bad play is met by a low murmur; a bad miss is greeted with an instant growl as of thunder - checked at once in the eagerness to watch the sequel; parted lips are whispering to themselves, or burst out into loud warnings or injunctions which none of the combatants can possibly hear. And when a player is pitched headlong on the sward what a sharp laugh rings out for a second!

Off goes the ball again; a player seizes it, bouncing it as he goes, 'shepherded' along the way by his friends. Suddenly an opponent bursts through the defence and flings himself upon the man with the ball, who then has reason to repent that he did not sooner kick when the chance was open. The instant that he feels himself touched he must drop the ball; the instant it is dropped his assailant must take his hands off. If the umpire considers that his grasp has not relaxed immediately when the ball was dropped, his whistle sounds, and a 'free kick' is awarded to the man who has been held; a salutary lesson which reminds the aggressor that he cannot be too prompt in obeying the rules.

Once the runner has dropped the ball and has himself been released, a tussle takes place, but being open, not closing up in any scrimmage, the ball soon goes away followed vigorously by the field. Back and forwards it bounds till it flies clear of the crowd. As it trundles over the sward towards the boundaries, two of the wing players, placed to watch each other as rivals, go in pursuit of it. Shoulder to shoulder, bumping as they go, they dodge each other for a chance of picking the ball up, or of dribbling it over to their own side for freedom to kick it to suit their taste. But if they hamper each other too long, up comes a fast runner, and bears it away unmolested. Sometimes judgment is shown by merely keeping an opponent off, if it is observed that a player of one's own side is the nearest and most likely to be the first on the spot.