Finally we grew so proud of our progress in base-ball that after great efforts we managed to get special suits. These were really wonders in their way. True, they were nothing but a shirt and a pair of trousers that came down just below the knee. But all the boys were dressed alike, and the suits were made of blue with a red stripe running down the side of the legs to help the artistic effect. After this, we played ball better than before; and the fame of our club crept up and down the stream and over beyond the hills on either side. Then we began issuing challenges to other towns and accepting theirs. This was still more exciting. By dint of scraping together our little earnings, we would contrive to hire a two-horse wagon and go out to meet the enemy in foreign lands. In turn, the outside clubs would come to visit us. The local feeling spread from the boys to their families and neighbors, and finally the girls got interested in the game and came to see us play. This added greatly to our zeal and pride. Often, in some contest of more than common interest, the girls got up a supper for the club; and when the game was done we ranged ourselves on the square and gave three cheers for the other club, and then three cheers for the girls. This they doubtless thought was pay enough. A game of ball in those exciting times was not played in an hour or two after the day’s work was done. It began promptly at one o’clock and lasted until dark; sometimes the night closed in before it was finished. The contest was not between the pitcher and the catcher alone; we all played, and each player was as important as the rest. Our games never ended with four or five sickly tallies on a side. A club that could get no more runs than this had no right to play. Each club got forty or fifty tallies, and sometimes more; and the batting was one of the features of the game. Of course, we boys were not so cool and deliberate and mechanical as players are to-day. We had a vital interest in the game; and this, more than any other activity, was our very life. The base-ball teams of these degenerate days are simply playing for pay; and they play ball with the same precision that a carpenter would nail shingles on a roof. Ball-playing with us was quite another thing. The result of our games depended as much upon our mistakes, and those of the other side, as upon any good playing that we did. In a moment of intense excitement the batter would knock the ball straight into the short-stop’s hands; it was an easy matter to throw it to first-base and head off the runner, and every boy on the field and every man in the crowd would shout to the short-stop just what to do. He had time to spare; but for the moment the game was his, and all eyes were turned on him. As a rule, he eagerly snatched the ball and threw it clear over the first-baseman’s head, so far away that the batter was safely landed on third-base before the ball was again inside the ring. The fielder, too,