“THE real characteristic of the modern age”, says Fr. Ronald Knox, ‘‘is the terrible seriousness with which it takes its pleasures.” Games have ceased to be amusements, and have become avocations. The men and women who play in Wimbledon tournaments must regard lawn tennis as the principal business of their lives, and the reason why Englishmen are, generally, beaten at Wimbledon is because few of them are so stupid as to suppose that lawn tennis can have any such importance. Even to play games moderately well, according to modern standards, means the entire devotion of one’s leisure to one particular thing. The golfer, concerned about his handicap, must never waste an afternoon playing lawn tennis, or punting on the river, or lying on his back in the sun. He must always be up and at it, and we suggest that the wise man will conclude that it is not worth while to train oneself to play any game well enough even to win a club handicap. We are, indeed, inclined to think that an exaggerated interest in any game narrows the sympathies and lessens the enjoyment of life. It is, to us, a little pitiful that thousands of men would never dream of trudging across the countryside enjoying the beauties with which God has dowered the world, unless at the same time they can he continually hitting a small, stationary ball.

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