The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 3, 1897 · Page 3
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, November 3, 1897
Page 3
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THIS UPPER DEH AIO1NES: Af-nOttA IOWA. WEDNESDAY NOVJBMBBB 8,....MOT, INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION. CHAPTER V. HE public n r agon- •ette in which Marjorie was to journey home ran daily between Dumfries and Annanmoiith, a small seaside village much frequented in summer for its sea-bathing, and passed within half a mile of Mr. Lori raine's abode, which was just six j Scotch miles away from Dumfries itself. The starting place was the Bonny Jaau ! Commercial Inn an establishment said j to have been much patronized by the poet Burns during his resident in the I nouth of Scotland; and hither Marjaric. [after leaving her tutor, proceeded wllh- | out delay. The wagonette was about to start; Lmd Marjorie hastened to take-, her place. The vehicle was drawn by two [powerful horses, and could accomrno- I'dnte a dozen passengers inside and one I more on the scat of the driver; but today there were only a few going— [three farmers and their wives, a sailor on his way home from sea, and a couple 6 of female farm servants who had come in to the spring "hiring." All these {had taken their seats; but John Suth- (iirland stood by the trap waiting to I hand Marjorie in. She stepped in and now - Itook her place and the young man -And [Yound a seat at her side, when the [driver took the reins and mounted tp Ihis seat, and with waves and smiles Ifrom the. ( Misses Dalrymple, who kept Jtho Bonny Jean Inn, and a cheer from la very small boy on the pavement away |they went. At last the vehicle reached the Icross-roads where John and Marjorie Iwere to alight. They leapt out, and pursued .their way on foot, the young fman carrying a small hand-valise, IMarjorie still holding her school books funderneath her arm. Presently they came to a two-art hed bridge which spanned the Annan. They paused just above the keystone. The young man rested his valise on the aossy wall, and both looked thoughtfully down at the flowing stream. "It's many a long year, Marjorie, since we first stood here. I was a barc- tfooted callant, you were a wean scarce able to run; and now I'm a man, and you're almost a woman. Yet here's |the Annan beneath us, the same as 'ever, and it will be the same when ve'ro both old—always the same." Marjorie turned her head away, and [her eyes were dim with tears. "Come away," she said; "I cimnot hear to look at it! Whenever I watch |he Annan I seem to see my mother's if owned' face looking up at me out of jthe quiet water." The young man drew closer to her, ind gently touched her hand. "Don't greet, Marjorie!" he mur- lured softly; "your poor mother's at peace with God." 'Yes, Johnnie, I ken that," answered |he girl In a broken voice; "but it's lad, sad, to have neither kith nor kin, [ind to remember the way my mother lied—ay, and not even to be able to iuess her name! Whiles I feel very lonesome, when I think it all o'er." 'And no wonder! But you have |hose that love you dearly, for all that. There's not a lady in the country more aought of than yourself, and wherever |our bonny face has come it has Brought comfort." he spoke -he .took her hand in his Bwn and looked at her very fondly; |ut her own gaze was far away, fol- t>wing her wistful thoughts. "You're all very good to me," ehe jiid presently, "Mr, Lorraine, and Solo- ion, and all my friends; but, for all 4at, I miss my own kith and kin." ; He bent his face 'close to hers, as ho Bturned: 'Some day, Marjorie, you'll have a louse and kin of your own, and then I've striven hard and hoped to horome a painter, it has all been for love of you. I know my folk are paor, nnd that In other respects I'm not a match for you, who have been brought up as a lady, but. there will be neither peace nor happiness for me in this world unless you consent to become my wife." As he continued to speak nhc had become more and more surprised ami more surprised and startled. The sudden revelation of what so many people knew, but which she bersclt had never suspected, came upon her as a shock of sharp pain; so that when he ceased, trembling and confused by the vehemence of his own confession, she was quite pale, aii'l nil the light seemed to have gone out of her beautiful eyes as she replied: "Don't talk lilce that! You're not serious! Your wife! 1 shall bo 'nae- body's wife,' as 1 aaid, but surely, surely not yours." "Why not mine, Marjorie?" he cried, growing pale in turn. "I'll work day and night; I'll neither rest nor sleep until 1 have a home fit for you! You shajl be a lady—0! Marjorie, tell me you care for me, and will make me happy!" "I do care for you, Johnnie; I car* for you so much that I can't bear to hear you talk as you have done. You have been like my own brother, and i, now I want to be something nearer and dearer. Marjorie, speak to me; at least tell me you're not angry!" "Angry with you, Johnnie?" she replied, smiling again, and giving him in a deep, musical voice, but without turning his head. His infirmity was now apparent—he was stono blind. John Sutherland walked across the room, gave his sister a passing kiss, and placed his hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder. "It's yoursel', my lad! I ken you noo. 1 feel your breath about me! What way diil ye no write to tell us you were on the road hame?" "I was not.sure until the last moment that I could start so roon, but 1 jumped into the train last night, and down I came." "Who's alang wl' you?" asked the weaver, smiling. "I'll wager It's Marjorie Annan!" "Yes, Mr. Sutherland," ariswered Marjoric. crossing the room and join- Ing the littlo group- "I ™et Johnnie In Dumfries, and we home together." The weaver nodded his head gently, and the smile, on his face lightened into loving sweetness. "Stand close, side by sk'.o," he said, "while 1 ttik' a long look at baith o' ye." "While you look at us!" echoed Marjorie in surprise. "Ay, uud what for no? Dlnna think, because my bodily een are blind, that 1 canna see weel wi' the. een o' my soul! Ay, there you stand, lass and lad—my tJ 4 1 1 JDAJUJJ NOTES OF INTEREST ABOUT THE NATIONAL GAME. gketth of n Notort Mnnnatcr — Hot* ' the ruffians of hall players, and thm»j i whl back those W ho have been drivenj away by their actions. Boston has taken a firm stand in this particular and should fortune favor them in their efforts to capture the pennant, It will; be a distinct victory for clean, manl} ball playing. Other clubs have joinec "Hilly" Ilnrnlc Ascended th* J,ndil*r I )n ^ " mo " vement an ,i sc t their facet of Fntne—The liftrin of Bowdjism aga j nst the practices which are fast 1'ointcti Out. I bringing the game into disrepute, and; i at the next meeting, which will be held: j In Philadelphia, In November, a deter-; mined stand will be made for some such action as will make the occurrences next year of the disgraceful STORY OFTHE SKt&lV ACCEPTED BAttpEdlF CIVILIZES* WOMANKIND. 13LOV/ T.-O present a portrait of William Barnie, who is known wherever base ball is known, played or patronized. Barnie was born Jan. 26, 1853, in Now York city, and commenced playing ball in 1865 scenes of this utterly impossible. the t,oenl fcflort for Di-nCting. On Oct. 1 the drafting season of the National League opened. On and after that date and until January 1 National . . - League clubs can select any player in with amateur clubs any mlno ,. j eagne t iiat comes under the In 1870 he joined the | NaUoua j agreement, and by paying fflr him a price according to the class he is , boy John and Marjorie Annan; halth fair, batth wi 1 blue uen; John prood ami glad, and Marjorie blushing by his side; and 1 see what you canna see--a light aU roond.iiml abuno ye, coming oot o' the golden gates o 1 Heuvcn! Stand still a wee and hark! V)o ye heai nothing? Ay, but I can hear! A sound like kirk-bells ringing tar awa . As he spoke he sat with shining face, as 1£ he indeed gazed on the, sweet vis- Ion he was describing. Mavjorie grew red as fire, and cast down her eyes; for she was only too conscious of the in Brooklyn. then famous Nassau club of Brooklyn with which ho remained, filling several positions, mostly catcher, until 18(3, when Manager Robert Ferguson engaged him for Atlantic nine. In 1874 Barnio caught for tho Hartford team and in 1S75 he caught for the Kookuk team until tho club disbanded In June of that year. Barnie then joined the Muluals. of New York, who then played their games on the old Union grounds. Brooklyn, and caught "Bobby" Mathews. In 1870 James A. Williams, later president of the Western League was manager, of the Columbus Club, and lie engaged Bnrnio to catch for his team. Among some of the noted games Manager Barnie caught in during the season of 1877 was an eleven Inning contest of July 7, between the Buckeyes and tho Champions of Springfield, O., in which neither team scored a run, Barnio accepting all of the eighteen old man's meaning, and, remembering what had taken place that day, she felt •constrained and almost annoyed. John Sutherland shared her uneasiness, ano to divert the conversation into anothei channel, he spoke to his young sister, who stood smiling close by. Marjorie, uneasy lest, tho old man t both'hands. "As if I could be! But dreamy talk should again you must be very good, and not speak ward turn, was determined to make he: moved of it again." She disengaged herself and slowly across the bridge, valise and followed her anxiously. I know what it is," he said sadly, Good-byo now, Mr. Sutherland," lie lifted his | she said, taking his hand in hers, "1 must run home; Mr. Lorraine will be expecting me And before as they went on side by side together , «.-••—- - --- cl . O ssing the "You think I'm too poor, and you would | to detain hei, sue wua ^ ^ ^ th be ashamed of my folk." She turned her head and gazed at him in mild reproach. "Oh, how can you think so hardly of me? I love your mother and father as if they were my own; and as for your being poor, I shouldn't like you at all if you were rich. But," she added gently, "I like you as my brother best." "If 1 could bo always even that I should not mind;, but no, Marjorie, threshold of the cottage. Young Suth erland followed her as far as the garden gate. 'Marjorie," he said, your 'I hope you're she replied; "but I wish father would not talk as if we Johnnie. It makes me feel so awkward, and you know It It n °'01d U folk will talk," said John Sutherland, "and father only speaks out ol in, secure him for next season, provided, of course, he is not a "farm hand" of oomc other National League club. Up to Jan. 1 the National League has the solo privilege of drafting, be ing compelled to pay $500 for any player In class B—which embraces the Western and Eastern Leagues—anc proportionately for class C, D, and E players. After Jan. 1 the minor leagues can draft players from leagues In £ class below them. The drafting sys tern works a hardship on the class I clubs, as It deprives them of player who are worth more to the teams thanj the pricb received for them. However, to the majority of class C, D nnd E clubs, drafting Is a sort of salvation, as the money received for players gen-j erally Is needed to pay off shortages that occur In many of the smaller leagues during the season. Already a number of minor league players have been bought at advanced prices by National League clubs.and no doubt manyj will follow by the drafting channeli after Oct. 1.—Sporting Life. An Old-Timer Cone. ) Joseph Donnegan, a well known ball player and umpire,,died recently and burled In Calvary cemetery, New York. Old-time base ball enthusiasts will remember "Joe," as he was familiarly known, as the catcher of ' the Alaskan when they held the championship of Central Park. Later he played! with the Wllkesbarre and Springfield) teams, and afterwards succeeded Um-i plre Dick Hlgham when the latter wasj suspended. Donnegan hailed from the! j Eighth ward, and his funoral was large-! itoop* fttut the "Tlert-ttnck"—the tiittet tVa» the Ugliest Onrmftnt IStet Worn by this Pair Sis*—9ht»rt Skirts Atttenft tho Teutons. __^ .. HS sldft la distinctly feminine j for centuries it has been the exclusive garb of womankind in civilized countries, saya the St. Louis ttepub^ lie. In spite of theae fin tie slecle days, the new woman and the vaudeville stage, nothing has been fotind to tike Its place; for what garment la so graceful? Even bloomers arc not popular, the short skirt receiving tho verdict of approval. Woman's skirts have been celebrated in song and ; story. Night is described by Longfellow as having "sable skirts." All the dignity of womankind is epitomized In the skirt and half tho fascination,' A woman In bloomers cannot "sweep" through n room—she must glide, llko a man. The graceful and correct handling of the skirts is second In importance only to the skirts themselves. Woman betrays her breeding when she crosses the street. That heredity will here show itself is a fact borne out by history, for if a woman's ancestors were of noble birth they were accustomed to the Intricacies of long trains, while peasant women working in tho fields with skirts above their ankles gave no thought to skirt management. The Russian peasant woman wears boots, and but for her headgear is not distinguishable 'from the men, while the Dutch peasant girl wears petticoats coming only a few inches below the knee. . The handling of the skirt has gone through many changes from decade to decade and century, to century. It has been carried over the arm, drawn through the bolt or caught up by buttons. Even tho Grecian maidens, whoso garments seem in the pictures to bo always floating about, were accustomed to tuck them between their knees when about their house-keeping work. The Greek maiden grasped her garment tightly at the side and lifted it up; this method would be Impossible with latter-day dross goods and hair cloth, but with the light, floating draperies of the Greeks and Romans it was very artistic. The long folds of a you're too bonny to bide alone, and if fu 'nness of his heart. He Is very any other man came and took you Q£ you _ Mal .j or le!" Irom me, it would break my heart." .^ kno ' w thati am i i o f him—that is "What nonsense you talk!" she ex- j( . troliu i cs me to hear him talk ••laimed. smiling again. "As if any oth- „. ,. nf „ claimed, smiling again. "As if any er man would 'care. If I were twenty, like that.' There was a moment's pause; then it would be time enough to talk like Sutlicrlaiu i sadly held out his hand that; but at seventeen—oh, Johnnie, you almost make me laugh!" "Tell me one thing," he persisted; "tell me you don't like any one better than you like me." "I don't like any one half BO well, except, except—Mr. Lorraine." "You are sure, Marjorie?" "Quite sure." "Then I'll bide my time and wait." By this time the village was in sight, I'll be Well good-bye, just now. looking ye up at the manse!" Good-bye!" she answered. "Come soon! Mr. Lorraine will be so glad !< she°h''istened away, while Sutherland 'with a sigh, stood looking aftei her ' He had loved her so long and so silently, and now for the first time In life he began to dread that she not love him in return. To him MANAGER BARNIE. chances. He also caught for the Buckeyes in an 18-innlng game, July 0, with tho Tecumseh team, of Being crippled in one hand and having an opportunity to rest, Barnie engaged with the Buffalo club as manager for the remainder of the season, and selected for it the team that won the championship of the International Association in 1878. In 1879 and 1880 he caught Jim Whitney, in the Knickerbocker club, of San Francisco. In 1881 he reorganized the Atlantics oE Brooklyn. In 1882 he managed tho Phlladel- phias. In 1883 he wont to Baltimore, I ly attended. Among the ex-ball play-, ers present were these old-timers, once famous: Frank Hankluson, Charlie Jones, Billy Taylor, Jaicies Roseman,' Eddie Kennedy, Billy Qutun, Jerry Sul-j !, JUiy J, >VIL« I lliUUle lYtmuoujr t •*•»»"J -<«twv»«*i »—- ., . London, Ont. llvan, John Kelly, Mike ILehane, John-j I ny Troy, Sam Crane, Joe Gerhardt,i Paddy Callahan, Jack Lynch, Shorty. Howe, Jack Hayes and Jimmy Clin-; ton. ™ ' v Cftylor's night. , O. P. Caylor, the noted base ball writer, who is dying of consumption Is one' of the nerviest men alive. He has been practically dying for years but laughs at the idea that he is a I sick man. Billy Norr, the New York ny uuia nu»v m^. . ---- ra- • ---- •" ~- =,-•-, JIUB" L """ ' ----- , .,, „,, f i,_ and they were soon walking along the juat then, it seemed as if all the main street, which was as sleepy and was , darkened, the blue sky cloudeu main SLIUCL, iviii^ii ""o no v,^vj ....« waM ,,«,..,,.v,.. , tnnnh,] deserted as usual. Even at the tavern all the sweet spring weathei toucui! door not a soul was to be seen; but tho w ith u wintry sense of fear, landlord's face looked out from behind the window-pane with a grim nod of greeting. A few houses beyond the inn, Sutherland paused close to a small, one-storied cottage, in front of which was a tiny garden laid out in pansy beds. '.'Will you come in, Marjorie?" ho asked doubtfully. Marjorie nodded and smiled, and without another word he opened the garden gate, crossed the walk, and led the way into the cottage. (•I'O BEOOKTIXUED.) gome ORANGES WITH HORNS. Stranite Varieties of the I'Tult Urowu by the (3hlnem>. i The Chinese are very fond of monstrous forms- of fruit ; .aad,flowers : ^nd any season of 1892, but resigned. He was manager of the Louisville club in 3893 and 1894. In 1895 he managed the Scrnnton club of the Eastern League. In 1890 he owned and managed the Hartford club of the now Atlantic League and scored a big success. This season he disposed of his Hartford club and re-entered the League as manager of tho representative club of his own city of Brooklyn. Under adverse circumstances he did well, and will next year again pilot the Brooklyn team, which he will thoroughly reconstruct. where he managed the club until 1892. world's base ball man who died a few He umpired the league for a part, of the wc eks ago, had made a bet with Cayloi ' " every New Year's day fw; seven years that* he (Caylor) would ilie in twelve; months, and Caylor chuckles between' hemorrhages, tickled with the idea thatj he has outlived Norr and la $3G ahead] of the game. Caylor has been writing; I He paused, blushing, for her clear, leadfast eyes were suddenly turned all upon his face. "What dp you mean, Johnnie?" "I meimthat you'll marry, and--—" Brightness broke through the oloud, id Marjorie smiled. |"Marry? Is It me? It's early In the ay to think of that, at seventeen!" P'Other young lasses think of It, Marine, and so must you. Our Agnes iarrled last Martinmas, and the was jly a year older than yourself." larjorie shook her head, then her pe grew sad again as her eyes toll on Annan water, a naebody's bairn," she cried, jd shall bo naebody's wife, Joh;i- toon't say that, Marjorie," entered Sutherland, still holding her f d and pressing it fondly. "There's y.that loves you dearer than any- pg else in all the world." le looked at him steadfastly, while I face flushed scarlet. SfJ know you love me, Johnnie, as if were my own brother." lore than that, Marjorie—more, a lusand times!" the young man con- died passionately, "Ah! it has been Kmy mind a thousand times to tell how much. Evw since we were •je lass and lad you've been the one light, and dream of mv life; nad if CHAPTER VI. S they entered the door a loud humming sound came upon their ears, mingled with the sound of voices. Turning t o the right, they found themselves on the threshold of a room, half parlor, half kitchen, at one end of which was a large loom, where an elderly man, of grave and somewhat careworn aspect, was busily weaving. Seated on a chair close to him was a girl of about fourteen, dressed in the ordinary petticoat and short gown, and reading aloud from a book. At the other end of the room, where there was an open ingle and a flre, an elderly matron was cooking. Suddenly there was an exclamation from the latter, who was the first to perceive the entrance of tho newcomers. "Johnnie!" she cried, holding out her arms; and in another moment sho had folded her son in her embrace, and was kissing him fondly. The young girl rose, smiling, book in hand; the man 'ceased his weaving, but remained quite still in his chair. "Yes, here I am,:mother; and I've brought company, as you see!" <'Hoo's g.' wi 1 ye, Marjorie?" cried the matron, holding out her hand. "It's a treat to see your bonny face. Sit ye down by the flre!" "Is that my sou?" said the weaver. tw y departure from the normal form is usually cherished and highly valued. In their gardens they have numerous forms of monstrous oranges—some will produce fruit with points like firgers and are known as the Hand Orange. Another form, says Meehan's Monthly, has a long horn projecting from the apex, and they are known as the Horn Orange. Another variety, which botanists have known by the name of Citrus aurantlum distortum, bears a fruit in the resemblance of a cluster of sea shells. To one ignorant of the laws of vegetable morphology, these spells of wandering from, the normaltype we vjsry mysterious, but when It is understood thai all parts of the orange, as well as other fruits, are made up of what would have been leaves or branches changed so as to constitute the various parts of the seed and seed vessels, and that a very little difference in the degree of life energy will change them into various different parts that come to make up the fruit, the mystery in a great measure is solved. There are few branches of botany which give the lover of fruits and flowers so much pleasure as thf study of morphology. A Good Idea. "I see from the war news," remarked Mrs. Snaggs, "that several magazines have been captured." "Yes," replied Mr. Snaggs. "I suppose the object is to prevent the ed- Tlio Harm of Rowdyism Pointed Out. Editorial in Philadelphia Times: But it is not the purpose to call attention to the result of the season, but rather to the rowdyism displayed on tho field. For three or four years things have been going from bad to worse until now rows on the ball field and the mobbing of umpires are almost a matter of daily occurrence. Nor Is this all. Those who patronize the sport are compelled to hear language that would make a Billingsgater blush. Players engage in altercations not only among themselves, but with the umpire as well, and the conversation carried on Is simply vile. This, of course, does not redound,to the credit of the O. P. CAYLOR. his stu:1 for the New York Herald for some time past at his home. He weighs only 73 pounds. The last ball game he UUCD U UL 1 C*4UVH*U ;iVV l-*J»- v.iv<«»*, w* n«»« i w ••-.*•— *- --- AUn : mtv and' it .has been and is fast losing .reported he had to be driven to the caste with the respectable element. Ef- grounds In a cab, and literally carried up to the reporters' stand. Caylor Is now on a leave of absence In Minnesota,! where a brother of his lives. His wife, wanted to go along, but 0. P. wouldn't; forta have owners, at been their made annual by the club meetings, to devise some means to end all this blackguardism, but so far it has all been a signal failure. Stringent rules have been passed, but they are more honored in the breach than in the observance, and to the owners themselves much, if not all, of this is due. Time and again have they made solemn com- allow her to. The farewolls were said. at the house. Caylor was carried to; the cab and driven off. Couldn't «e Improved by It's odd, but nevertheless it's true,' pacts as to the payment of fines, and that in spite of all the changes in tho; other tilings, but they have not kept rules of the game in the past twenty; with themselves. They have years there never was a change in the faith train increased the height and softened the movements of the figure, and were always in high favor in, the courts of England and France, so that their management became an art. For a lady to trip on her skirt was as disgraceful as for a gentleman to get mixed 'up with his sword. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries ladies of rank tucked several folds of the overskirt under the left arm or drew it up directly in front . •under tho crossed hands, disclosing a- > colored underskirt. As these ladles Inever crossed muddy streets, hardly ever venturing far from home, they had no occasion to clear the skirt from the ground altogether, and their raising them was more a matter of affoi- tutlon or to keep from being impeded in walking. The stlffor and more voluminous the .skirt the more difficult Its handling, and In Queen Elizabeth's time they . weie simply grasped at one side. These garments must have been of enormous weight, and it is probable that they, were often held up simply to ease the waist and hips. Skirts became more and more voluminous; the ancient •simplicity and tho long graceful folds of the early centuries were replaced by| hoops and "panniers." These cleared; the ground and often displayed a small 1 , portion of the ankle. In dancing they; , were grasped by both hands, and much skill was displayed In. their manage-, ment. Hoops subsided and were final-, ly replaced by an imitation Greek costume, which displayed every curve o£ the figure. The Teutonic nations never took so kindly to the long skirt and train. The Dutch wives, particularly, did not care to be impeded by iinnec"- 1 essary dry goods, while the peasant: girl of the sixteenth century wore' skirts reaching only to her knees. II! was in the eighteenth century that wo-| men began to pick up their skirts from, behind—the latest of all methods. Just when they got into the habit of cross-! , ing' the street on their heels is not) known, but any street-corner loungeti can verify the statement that while' men step on their toes, the women, it 1 it be very muddy, totter across on their, heels. In the middle of this century hoops broke out with renewed. viru-: lence. They were, perhaps, the most awkward things to handle'that were 1 ever worn, If pulled up; on the side the other side went down correspond-; ingly, causing a one-sided, wabb^lne' appearance extremely ridiculous. Then! came the long, tight, "tied back" ar*j rangement, which was, without doubt,, the ugliest garment ever donned by| woman. These skirts were very diflN cult to hold, up, and, fortunately, did: not last a great while. placed unlimited power in the hands geography of the game, that is, the dia- ,,f tv, n nmnirn. mid then tied his mnnrt itself was never altered," mused itors from-filling their pages with wat articles for the next twenty-five years.' —Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph. The countries relatively richest in horses and horned catle aye Argentina and Uruguay. Australia has the most sheep; Sewia has the greatest »umbep of pigs to the population of the umpire,, and then tied his hands. When a man has been tried and has shown himself able to cope rith the players, and enforce the rules as he finds them, he is promptly discharged. Even tho best men now upon the umpires' staff dally allow themselves to be subjected to such Indignities in order to hold their posi- mond itself was never Tom Brown. "The same old diamond, that our fathers scampered over in their youth is 'used today. The distance is exactly the same, Of course the evolution has worked yreat changes in tho rules of play. The tools pf the trade, the mask/and the pad, have come: into play, but tUe geographical poal-: tions and the pnly wonder is that any tlon of base ball remains the same as; sett-respecting man can be found 1 -..-,.—., who will submit to it. All this is no news to any who are at all familiar with base ball ao it is played today, but gawe is to remain such to drive out in the old days pf gcrub and rounders. 1 -Washington Post. Every glvl knows at least a score o: men, either of tUiuuery fpr tUe I^luo. A singular innovation has been decided on in Russia. Henceforth a certain number of men from each reg' Iment of cavalry and Infantry are to be trained In gunnery. The object of this Is to provide, in case of severe loss in the artillery, a supply of trained men to take the placo of those who have fallen. This year, at Kras- noe Selo, several batteries composed entirely in this way.were formed, an.d the experiment gave such satisfactory results that it has been decided to apply the system, throughput the &¥** my, ,

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