Between them three Glasgow evening papers devoted about forty columns of space to the International football match on Saturday evening, nearly a hundred reporters and almost as many expert telegraphists were employed at the game, and it is calculated that quite a million words of description were sent into England over the six trunk wires which were coupled on to the ground. The attendance fell just short of 50,000, and the money taken at the gates amounted to nearly £2,000. From these facts it will be gleaned that football makes for the change of the coin of the realm, if for nothing else. Never has a match of importance been played under such trying conditions.
   Hail, rain, snow, and sleet ushered in Saturday morning in Glasgow. The wind spoke out of the south-west with a loud voice. At half-past ten there was a blizzard which would not have disgraced the plains of Canada in the depths of winter. In the more exposed districts quite an inch of snow and hail fell in less than half an hour, and as Celtic Park stands high, it is hardly necessary to say that it did not escape. After the blizzard we had the sun, and then the blizzard again. The two played hide and seek all the afternoon, and one could not help admiring the hardihood of the spectators who faced the blast.
   Just before the players entered the field the driving snow and sleet almost obscured the people on one grand stand from their friends on the opposite side. The Pressmen, in their cockloft five storeys high, had a particular trying time, and one would not be surprised to learn in the course of the next few days that pneumonia has become a fashionable disorder in the circles devoted to sporting journalism. Naturally the field of play was very heavy indeed. In some places it was almost under water. In spite of all these discouragements the players and spectators never lost heart. The last-mentioned had jeered at the weather when it was at its very worst by singing, 'When the stormy winds do blow.' The sentiments of the game kept heat in what would otherwise have been a half-frozen mass of humanity. That the public-houses adjacent to the field of play did a roaring trade immediately after the close was due not so much to the Artic character of the weather as to a desire to drown the natural sorrow at their defeat.
   I have missed very, very few matches between England and Scotland in my twenty-five years' experience of the sport, and I must confess I never saw a poorer game. To me it will be almost a torture to be compelled to rehearse its incidents one by one. It was a colourless, purposeless exhibition, and yet, strangely enough, it was as strenuous as any match I have ever seen played. The players on both sides were heartily glad when all was over, for what with the holding ground, and the battering, biting wind and sleet, they were as tired as snails.
   The Englishmen deserved their victory, because they played slightly better football than their opponents, but their was nothing in the play of either side to wax enthusiastic over. But for the misskick by Watson, which let in Bloomer, who scored, the result could have been a draw. All things considered this would have been a much more satisfactory termination to the match, undoubtedly Scotland suffered greatly through the absence of R. C. Hamilton, the chosen centre-forward. It is quite certain that Hamilton would have utilised more than one of the chances given to Brown. The old Tottenham Hotspur player not only showed a lack of pace and judgment, but he allowed himself to be bustled off the ball by Crompton in a way which did not say much for his pluck.
   The Blackburn Rover was particularly vigorous in his play, and the referee, Mr. Nunnerley, would not have exceeded his duty had he cautioned him for his treatment of Templeton. The latter is a slightly-built youth, who is extremely clever with his feet. No doubt the fact that Templeton changed places with Niblo in the second half was due more or less to Crompton's vigorous charging.
   The weakness of the Scotch team was at forward. The men never combined really well, Brown, being slow and uncertain in his movements, seemed to upset all the others. Even the great 'Bobby' was more or less impotent, although he very nearly beat Baddeley on two occasions. Scotland's defence was all right, if we except the mistake made by Watson from which Bloomer scored. Raisbeck played a great game at centre half. Robertson was brilliant in the first half, but he tired towards the end. Aitken was dogged, and useful for a young player called into such a game at the last moment. Jackson did wonderfully well, he tackled splendidly, and his kicking was always nicely timed and sure. McBride did not have a great deal of work to do, but he fielded the ball with much more accuracy and coolness when it came his way. He had no earthly chance with the shot from Bloomer which beat him.
   The success of the English team was S. S. Harris, who, more especially towards the close, developed great dribbling and shooting powers. Harris, by his style, reminds one greatly  of R. E. Foster. What a tremendous wing the cricket record smasher and the Cambridge captain would have made. Woodward did not shine so  resplendently as of yore, , but he was always doing something to help his side along. For one thing, the Tottenham man was very closely watched by Raisbeck, and this undoubtedly impaired his powers to a considerable extent. Harris treated Blackburn most considerately, and the Rover returned the compliment by doing all that was asked of him in a very capable manner.
   Bloomer and Rutherford were very seldom prominent, for Robertson kept good hold of them. Without being great, the work of the English half-backs was very sound. Wilkinson fully justified his selection, but Wolstenholme slightly marred his play by being unnecessarily forceful. Burgess was the cleaner of the two backs, and for a man of his inches he is undoubtedly, as the music-hall poet puts it, 'a terror for his size.' Baddeley was not greatly troubled, although he made one or two very clever saves. Altogether the game was a very poor one, and few who witnessed it will be able to recall even its most prominent features a month hence.
   

About 40,000 spectators were present at the Celtic-park ground, Glasgow, on Saturday afternoon, to witness the last international match of the season, between Scotland and England. The English team, only required to draw the match to win the championship. They did more than this, however, and won the game by a goal to none. It was an extremely bad day for football. Snow and hail storms swept the district at intervals during the morning, and just before the time for beginning play a violent storm added to the general discomfort. The match itself was played in bright weather, but the high wind was always disturbing, and the hail and snow had made the turf very slippery. Scotland, who lost the toss, for a time adapted themselves to the trying conditions far better than England...
...England continued to hold the upper hand, and eventually Bloomer, having an open goal, sent in a shot which McBride had no chance of stopping. The game slowed down considerably near its conclusion, both sides being exhausted by the hard work on the slippery turf.