The most of the Dumbarton lads were much faster on the ball than the "Vale," and this, added to a slice of luck, aided them in scoring twice, and they consequently won a hard battle by two goals to none, and earned the proud distinction of being the champions. After the great crowd had dispersed, and lots of silver had changed hands, a solemn silence reigned in that part of the pavilion utilised by the "Vale." "There is no use denying the fact, chaps," said the captain of the defeated team, "these fellows have beaten us on our form this season, and we'll have to make the best of a bad bargain." Not so, however, in the other end of the house. The victors were "blowing" a good deal of the bad luck they had had, and how they ought to have scored a dozen goals if "Sandy had not repeatedly allowed the ball to graze the goal-posts, instead of attempting to kick it out. They had, however, beaten the 'Vale,' and that was all they cared for, in the said tie. The Rangers they declared they did not fear, and from all they could hear, they were now quite able to meet the Queen's Park face to face." With the Rangers, however, they had just sufficient to do on their own ground in the first match, but in the second came off victorious by five goals to one. One Saturday evening we took forcible possession of Jack Cook's lodgings, which were situated near the Marie Stuart Hall, Crosshill. Jack was very fond of billiards, and sometimes pocketed several "pools" of an evening, when a few choice spirits congregated in "The Rooms." Jack's landlady had frequently threatened him with pains and penalties for treating anything approaching "elders' hours" with contempt, and once intensified it to instant dismissal, bag and baggage, for encouraging a lot of his chums in leading the chorus of Dickens' Bacchanalian song: "We won't go home till morning, Till morning, till morning, We won't go home till morning, Till daylight doth appear," at four o'clock A.M., under her kitchen window after a big cup tie, which the Conquerors had won. Jack, as a matter of precaution warned us that we were to comport ourselves with decency, and not rouse the aforesaid lady. Our friend had something in the bottle. We were comfortably seated, and the room filled with tobacco smoke, when a dim shadow was noticed at the door, and turned out to be Willie Fairfield, of the Flying Blues, who had just called to let us know he had received a telegram from Edinburgh announcing the defeat of the Hibernian in the protested match with Dumbarton, by six goals to two.