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FOOTBALL IN THE YEAR 2000 "Yes," said the football-player, as     he donned his heavily-padded knicker bockers, "the game has been robbed   of all its rough features, and is now mere child's play."' He paused a moment to adjust a complicated leather harness that held his ears close to his head and thoroughly covered them up, and then continued: "The new rules are designed to eliminate all elements of danger and prevent players from being injured in any way. They promise to succeed admirably," he added, in slightly nasal tones, as he placed a thick rubber nose protector over that organ. "Under the old and so-called. bar-   barous rules broken legs were not infrequent," he said, strapping on his heavy shin-guards, "but the public   may be sure all that has now been done away with." Brushing back his long, chrysan-   themum-like locks the better to see, he tied about his waist and over his leather jacket a wire chest-protector, and struck it a resounding blow with his massive fist. "The abolition of momentum play has made the sport almost as gentle as tennis or golf," he said, with what seemed a sigh, affixing stout knee caps to his, knees and ankle protectors to his ankles.' "By the way," he added, " when you   see her in the grand-stand, tell mother that my life-insurance policy is in the safe deposit vault." He paused an instant to adjust his wrist-supporters, and then continued:- "The fact is, old man, just between us, the game has been ruined. It is baby play now. Girls could play it without dislocating the crimp in their   front hair. Chess and cribbage are dangerous when compared with the new style of football." Placing a thick rubber teeth-pro- tector in his mouth, he strode towards the field where beauty and fashion had gathered to see two crack teams battle for supremacy. They tell us romances are things of the past, That the present's a practical time; That love at first sight is not truly polite, That reason is better than rhyme. And yet there's a spell that is holding me   fast, A sentiment strange that I feel, For my thoughts will not stray since I noticed, one day, An auburn-haired girl on the wheel. Like a comet she passed me and hurried away, A vision entrancingly rare; The poet's bright star that he worshipped afar.   Was a creature less distant and fair, And still, while I plod as a toiler each day, There is hope in the joy which I feel   That my orbit obscure, one more glimpse may assure   Of the auburn-haired girl on the wheel.