In spite of the extreme speed with which they came into the hand, however, they seemed to sort of lift themselves as they came and so landed lightly, while Sunday's balls, on the contrary, seemed to gain in weight as they sailed through the air and were heavy and soggy when they struck the hands.

This is a strange but true fact, and one that, perhaps some scientists can explain.

I confess that I cannot, nor have I ever been able to find anybody that could do so to my satisfaction.
Of the members of this old team the most famous in the history of Chicago as a base-ball city, three are dead, Flint, Williamson and Kelly, while the others are scattered far and wide, Ryan being the only one of them that is still playing.

Over the graves of three of them the grass has now been growing for many a year, and yet I can see them as plainly now as in the golden days of the summers long ago, when, greeted by the cheers of an admiring multitude, we all played ball together.

If it were possible for the dead to come back to us, how I should like once more to marshall the members of that championship team of 1884, '85 and '86 together and march with them once more across the field while the cheers of the crowd rang in our ears.