After his release by the Chicago Club he drifted back East, where he pitched for a time in some of the minor leagues. Later on he was given another trial by the Chicagos, but his work proved unsatisfactory, he having outlived the days of his usefulness in the pitching line. After that he again went East, where he died several years ago. Fred Goldsmith, the other pitcher, was a great big, over-grown, good-natured boy, who was always just a-going to do things that he never did. He, too, came from the East, and was, I believe, pitching for the Tecumseh, Canada, Club when he signed with us. He was the possessor of a great slow ball and was always cool and good-natured. As a batsman he was only fair, and as a fielder decidedly careless. When it came to backing up a player "Goldy" was never to be relied upon, and after the play was over and he was asked why he had not done so, he would reply: "Oh, I'd a-bin thar ef I'd bin needed." But in spite of this the fact remains that he was rarely on hand when he was needed, and many an overthrown ball found its way into the field that would have been stopped had he been backing up the basemen in the way that he should have done. I remember seeing him in a game at Troy, N. Y., once when pitching for Chicago, when he was a sight to behold. He was playing and the rain was coming down in torrents while the grounds were deep in mud and water. Hatless, without shoes and stockings and with his breeches roiled clear up to his thigh, as if he were preparing to ford the Hudson river, "Goldy" was working like a Trojan, and I am not over sure but that he was one at that time. His arm was gone when he left us, and if he played ball any afterward, it was only in desultory fashion. He tended bar in different places for a time, but finally settled down to the business of market gardening near Detroit, where, from all that I can learn, he is making a good living. Frank S. Flint, "Old Silver," originally hailed from St. Louis, where he first came into notice as the back stop of an amateur team.