After a half-hour past the time appointed for the beginning of the game, the McGill men, dressed in the English foot-ball suit, straggled into the field, and, after a few minutes, were followed by a shabby-looking set of men, who turned out to be the Harvard Ten. As it happened, the dilapidated appearance of the Harvard players was quite a boon to the lookers-on, for if they had been respectably clad in a uniform of some kind it might have been quite impossible to distinguish between the two sides; but, as it was, one merely had to notice whether or no a few rags were floating gracefully behind the player, to know to which side he belonged. Indeed, in the last half-hour, one of the Harvard players had excited the spectators to the utmost with the hope that he was about to gain a long-wished-for "touch-down," when one of his pursuers bethought himself of stretching out his hand and seizing one of the many pennons that were waving behind him, with which he drew him skilfully to the ground, awakening in him the same sensation that a kite has when pulled to the ground by a little boy.
For the first half-hour the Harvard men had the wind in their favor. To the agreeable surprise of most of us, the Canadians did not kick the ball over the cross-bar in the first five minutes, and they seemed indeed hardly able to hold their own. The first two half-hours passed without either side winning even a touch-down, although several times it was barely lost; but the last half-hour was the most exciting of all. Both sides were evidently doing their best, though several of the McGill men already showed signs of the rough usage they had received in the first part of the game. The end of the half-hour came at last, and the game was drawn.
On the whole it was a very successful contest, and it is to be hoped that next year several games may be played between the Tens of McGill and Harvard.