present time to be wealthy barbarians, we devote our time and our energies to the things for which we really care.  I do not at all want to see games diminished, or played with less keenness.  I only desire to see them duly subordinated.  I do not think it ought to be considered slightly eccentric for a boy to care very much about his work, or to take an interest in books.  I should like it to be recognized at schools that the one quality that was admirable was keenness, and that it was admirable in whatever department it was displayed; but nowadays keenness about games is considered admirable and heroic, while keenness about work or books is considered slightly grovelling and priggish.

The same spirit has affected what is called sport.  People no longer look upon it as an agreeable interlude, but as a business in itself; they will not accept invitations to shoot, unless the sport is likely to be good; a moderate performer with the gun is treated as if it was a crime for him to want to shoot at all; then the motoring craze has come in upon the top of the golfing craze; and all the spare time of people of leisure tends to be filled up with bridge.  The difficulty in dealing with the situation is that the thing itself is not only not wrong, but really beneficial; it is better to be occupied than to be idle, and it is hard to preach against a thing which is excellent in moderation and only mischievous in excess.

Personally I am afraid that I only look upon games as a pis-aller.  I would always rather take a walk than play golf, and read a book than play bridge.  Bridge, indeed, I should regard as only one degree better than absolutely vacuous conversation, which is certainly the most fatiguing thing in the world.  But the odd thing is that while it is regarded as rather vicious to do nothing, it is regarded as positively virtuous to play a game.  Personally I think competition always a more or less disagreeable thing.  I dislike it in real life, and I do not see why it should be introduced into one’s amusements.  If it amuses me to do a thing, I do not very much care whether I do it better than another person.  I have no desire to be always comparing my skill with the skill of others.

Then, too, I am afraid that I must confess to lamentably feeble pleasure in mere country sights and sounds.  I love to watch the curious and beautiful things that go on in every hedgerow and every field; it is a ceaseless delight to see the tender uncrumpling leaves of the copse in spring, and no a pleasure to see the woodland streaked and stained with the flaming glories of autumn.  It is a joy in high midsummer to see the clear dwindled stream run under the thick hazels, among the lush water-plants; it is no less a joy to see the same stream running full and turbid in winter, when the banks are bare, and the trees are leafless, and the pasture is wrinkled with frost.  Half the joy, for instance, of shooting, in which I frankly confess