"Oh! but it cultivates their powers of endurance," says somebody.
That is true, I believe; although, from what I have seen of the two, I never could discover that an Englishman was more patient under the toothache than a Frenchman.
Now, to get bruised ribs and dislocated shoulders in practicing flights out of second and third storey windows I should understand; an accomplishment of that kind might be useful in case of fire; but to what end does all the bruising of football tend?
The game of football itself seems to be the end, and "not a means to an end," as, I believe, Mr. Matthew Arnold has remarked.
Yet, behold John Bull, junior, on the football ground! The hero of a bad cause, but for all that a hero; a lusty little fellow, fearless, hardy, strong-knit, iron-muscled, and mule-headed, who, rather than let go a ball that he holds firmly in his arms, will perform feats of valor; who, simply to pass this ball between two goals, will grovel in the dust, reckless of lacerated shoulders, a broken rib or jaw-bone, and will die on a bed of suffering with a smile upon his lips if he can only hear, before closing his eyes, that his side has won the game.
Speaking from my experience, I should say that at gymnastic exercises, and all pastimes requiring a little skill, French boys are more than the equals of John Bull, junior. They are better at leaping, climbing, and wrestling. As for swimming, nine out of ten French boys are good swimmers. They do not want to emulate Captain Webb's feats when they grow up, because the object or beauty of such feats as his has never been revealed to them.
But that is the Englishman all through.
Can he swim well? Then he must straightway swim across the English Channel; he must outswim his fellow-creatures; he must be the champion of the world, and have the betting in his favor, until he turns his gift into a hobby, sets off on it, and, to the entertainment of a few Yankee excursionists, ends by being drowned in the Niagara Falls.