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Al Sharpe kicked a goal from the field, from the forty-five yard line. It was a wonderful achievement. It is true that circumstances later substituted Arthur Poe for him as the hero of the game, but those who witnessed Sharpe's performance will never forget it. The laurels that he won by it were snatched from him by Poe only in the last half-minute of play.
But there was more to follow. The Lady Mary accepted Mr. Caryll's salutation of Hortensia as a signal. She led the way promptly, and the little band swept forward, straight for its goal, raked by the volleys from a thousand eyes, under which the Lady Mary already began to giggle excitedly. Thus they reached the countess, the countess standing very rigid in her amazement, to receive them.
"Yale's ball!" "Go on, you beggar! Run! Run!" "Touchdown! Touchdown!" There was a wild riot of yells. With his ears ringing as with the jangle of a thousand bells, with his lungs nearly bursting, and his eyes scarcely seeing, Andy ran on. He had ten yards to go thirty feet and between him and the goal was the Harvard full-back a big youth. Andy heard stamping feet behind him.
His goal was the Imperial throne; and this dignity, supported and made efficient by his activity, was in his hands liable to far greater abuse than was to be feared from the race of Hapsburg.
So we write that very night to the Pope to be confirmed that the glory and profit under God are to Castile and Aragon. But the Queen thought most of the heathen brought to Christ. And the Admiral thinks of his sons and his brothers and his old father, and of the Holy Sepulchre and of the Prophecies, and he has the joy of the runner who touches the goal!
By perpetually holding up to them their own dream of a Germany covering half Europe, they must have transmitted some of their own enthusiasm to their pupils, and underlying that enthusiasm was a tacit assumption that the end justified any means; that provided the goal were attained, the manner in which it had been arrived at was a matter of quite secondary importance.
All the horrors of desertion came upon him, and he who had lived a life overflowing with action and enjoyment, with disenchantment and satiety, who now in solitude carried on an incessant spiritual struggle for the highest goal this man felt himself as disconsolate and lonely as a bewildered child that has lost its mother.
"From the infinite throng of humanity there emerge individuals, families and races which tend to rise above the common level; painfully climbing the steep heights they reach the summits of power, wealth, intelligence and talent, and, having reached the goal, they are hurled down and disappear in the abysses of insanity and degeneration.
"HOLD 'em! Hold 'em! Buck up, fellows. Don't give an inch!" A storm of cheers swept over the field, as it was seen that the scrubs were holding the 'Varsity on their ten-yard line. Three times in succession the 'Varsity players plunged like enraged bulls against the defenders of the goal, only to be thrown back without a gain. One more fierce attempt, and the ball went to the scrubs on downs.
First of all came the races for wives, for at this feast only of all the year could the young men of the tribe get married. Even now they were obliged to run after their sweethearts, who were allowed so great a start in the race that if they chose they could reach the goal first and thus escape all further attentions from their pursuers.
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