WITH TEAMS OF FIFTY.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 6451, 24 February 1908, Page 10

WITH TEAMS OF FIFTY.

In Great Britain the game ot football—whether Association oi Rughv—is ed according to rules. Not so tu© tootball of China. "The first game I saw,’* says a European who has spent some tune oyer there, *T mistook for a serious not. To begin with each side was fifty stioug, and as it was in Northern China, most of them were at least six feet in height, and heavy in proportion. They had no goals, side-lines, or halves. The gam© lasted until one side beat the other, covering a period sometimes of several days. "The idea of the game is to place a small basket, which serves as a ball, in th© opponents’ territory, this territory being half the town. The game is fought out in the streets, and every player has a whistle, with which to call assistance when too hard pressed. "'Stealth, as well as force, is permitted, I know of an instance where one man placed the ball in the enemy s country by climbing along the rools of houses. "Ac may b© imagined, 100 gigantic men yelling and fighting all over the public streets is pretty certain to cauto excitement.’ I '' KIPLING’S DAY OFF. Literary enthusiast© are somewhat apt to forget that authors are not always lilt© their works—at least, in appearance —and in this connection an amusing story is told of a young lady who had for years been an ardent admirer of tho "Jungle Books" and "Plain Talks from the Hills/* For long she had been eager to see her idol in the flesh, and one day, to her great joy. she was introduced. But when she met Mr Kipling face to face th© young lady*© countenance fell somewhat, for sho realised that he was not, after all, tho exact counterpart of Apollo she had pictured him. "Are you l Rudyard Kipling?’* she cried, staring at the author in dismay. Mr Kipling naturally felt somewhat embarrassed, and murmured "Yes** meekly. "But I thought,** exclaimed the lady, who could not cover her disappointment—"! thought—l thought you were quit© different !** "I am—oh, I am, madam!’* Mr Kipling hastened to assure her in confidential tones. "I nin indeed! Only, you sco, this is my day off !’*