The Cowlairs had to play the Queen's Park in one of the ties, and a determined tussle it turned out to be. The "boys" bore a wild look that afternoon as they emerged from the pavilion at Hampden Park. You could read the anxious and determined character of their mission on every face. They had fully made up their minds to fight hard for the Cup, and really they did. Several of the team were big powerful fellows whom not a few cautious half-backs would think twice before "going for," and two of the forwards were very smart on their pins, but wanted that true mastery of the art of passing and dribbling at the proper time which make up the refined and superior Association player. As for endurance, they did not toil among iron wheels, steel axles, and brass fittings for locomotives, to say nothing of generating steam on the shortest notice, without being "hardy." No, no. They were in the best of condition for the game. The Queen's took them too cheaply, and nearly paid a lasting penalty for their carelessness. The game, in fact, was so closely fought that the teams were unable to overcome one another, and two goals each was the result. Meeting a second time, however, the Q.P. made short work of them, and won by nine goals to none. The evening before the memorable tussle which put the half of Dumbartonshire into a state of excitement, bordering on the football fever, "Mary, the Maid of the Football Inn," came to the door of the little hotel repeatedly, and after casting sundry glances at the roadway and scanning the passers-by, muttered something about being jilted, and how shamefully she had been used by Bob. Her own Bob, who was always so punctual, and occasionally treated her to a nice walk along the Leven, past Ewing's big work, and even went the length of composing verses in her honour. "What had become of him? Had Nancy Pringle waylaid him, as she positively swore she would do, on the first opportunity, and start the probationary stages of a drama in real life?" The fact was Bob never came, and no wonder. He was collared by the Dumbarton captain, and carried off to the field to practice for the great fight of the next day, under pains and penalties. He pleaded for Mary, but it was of no avail. "He had," he went on to remonstrate, "promised on his word of honour to meet her that evening and take her to Luckie M'Latchie's booking." Luckie and Tam M'Murtrie (an old footballer) were to be spliced a fortnight afterwards, and the "cries" were in.