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Updated: May 15, 2025
Previous to the opening of the season sceptics had shaken their heads over the Wednesday's chances in the First League. Other clubs had bought up the best men in the market, leaving only a mixed assortment of inferior Scotsmen, Irishmen, and Northcountrymen to uphold the honour of the London club. And then, like a meteor, Clarence Tresillian had flashed upon the world of football.
On the run of the season's play Houndsditch Wednesday v. Manchester United should have been the two most evenly-matched teams in the history of the game. Forward, the latter held a slight superiority; but this was balanced by the inspired goal-keeping of Clarence Tresillian. Even the keenest supporters of either side were not confident.
Though it welcomed the fugitive Charles II., the town itself does not appear to have seen any fighting during the Civil War it is certainly quite indefensible; but at Tresillian Bridge, about three and a half miles east, at the head of the creek so named, the desperate struggle of Cornish Royalists was brought to a close by the surrender of Sir Ralph Hopton to Fairfax.
The season during which Clarence Tresillian kept goal for Houndsditch Wednesday is destined to live long in the memory of followers of professional football. Probably never in the history of the game has there been such persistent and widespread mortality among the more distant relatives of office-boys and junior clerks.
Tresillian. I am the younger son of the Earl of Runnymede. To a man of your political views 'Nonsense, nonsense, said Mr Rackstraw. 'What are political views compared with the chance of getting a goal-keeper like you into the family? I remember Isabel saying something to me about you, but I didn't know who you were then.
With a few masterly manoeuvres he turned the boat into midstream, and then pulled a rapid and powerful stroke towards Tresillian Creek, where we had decided to bathe. We touched the bank at a suitable landing-place, disembarked, and prepared to undress. The events of this day linger with me like a string of jewels; and the bathe was one of the brightest of them all.
Isabel was presiding over the Billiken, Teddy bear, and Fancy Goods stall. There she stood, that slim, radiant girl, bouncing Ardent Youth out of its father's hard earned with a smile that alone was nearly worth the money, when she observed, approaching, the handsomest man she had ever seen. It was this is not one of those mystery stories it was Clarence Tresillian.
Shake hands. For a moment Clarence hesitated. Then his better nature prevailed, and he spoke. 'Mr Rackstraw, he said, 'I cannot deceive you. 'That won't matter, said the enthusiastic old man. 'I bet you'll be able to deceive everybody else. I see it in your eye. My boy, we'll be the greatest 'My name is not Jones. 'Nor is mine. What does that matter? 'My name is Tresillian. The Hon.
Octogenarians mumbled it. Infants lisped it. Tired City men, trampled under foot in the rush for their tram, asked it of the ambulance attendants who carried them to the hospital. And then, one bright, clear morning, when the birds sang and all Nature seemed fair and gay, Clarence Tresillian developed mumps. London was in a ferment.
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