Another valuable accomplishment in a lacrosse-player is knowing how and when to "uncover"—that is, to stop away from the opponent who has been deputed to cover him, and consequently be free to snatch up the ball the moment it comes his way. When one team understands this better than the other, the result is to convey the impression that it must have more players, because there always seem to be two of them at least wherever the rubber is. The game is won by the ball being thrown between the goal-posts, not higher than an imaginary line drawn across their tops. It must, of course, be thrown through from in front. Formerly a match was decided by the winning of three games, "best three out of five;" but in one of the two lacrosse associations now existing in Canada a change has been made, and unless one team wins three games straight, play must be continued for two hours, and then the team having the most games wins the match. The reason of the change was that in some cases a team would take three games from their opponents in a few minutes, and at this the spectators grumbled. The most interesting recent event in the history of the game in Canada is the visit of the famous Toronto twelve to Great Britain. They are a splendid lot of players, and seem to have it all their own way, as might be expected. The fact, however, that there are enough lacrosse clubs in the Old Country to make it worth their while to go over, proves that the game is making progress round the world. Indeed, it has been already heard of from Australia, India, China, and other far-away quarters of the globe. In the United States it is spreading rapidly, and the time cannot be far distant when we shall have international struggles for supremacy in lacrosse as well contested as we already have in some other sports. Some years ago a team from the United States crossed the Atlantic to contend against their British cousins, and succeeded in winning every match they played but one. *A PILLOW-SLIP FULL OF APPLES.* "_A. & H. O. A. S._ "_The arch-room—ten o’clock to-night. Bring a sheet and pillow-slip. ABRACADABRA._" Charlie Draper gazed at the piece of paper containing these simple words and mysterious signature with mingled feelings of pride and trepidation—pride because it was the first time since his coming to Twin Elm Academy that he had been the recipient of one of these much-prized missives, and trepidation because he had very vague notions of what his accepting the invitation it bore might entail. He was a new boy, just finishing his first month at the academy, and being of rather reserved disposition, had been slow in forming acquaintances. Indeed, but for an incident that suddenly brought him into prominence, he might have made still poorer progress in this direction than he did.