At this juncture, Will. Connell and Harry Watkins with the “Great Northern”, who had just come in from the theatre after enjoying Dick Sheridan’s “School for Scandal”, naively enquired if Mr. O’Toole’s redskins would win their opening game with the Peterborough Bluejays a week hence, adding “The birds are touted tough as hickory and hard nuts to crack”. “We’ll crack their kernels as sure as Hades is a man trap,” said the Spider, “or make them work so hard they’ll ferment and blow their heads off.” “As a precaution, have your willie pink collegians remove their hobble skirts,” chimed in Tom the Sphinx, with a significant smile. “If the Bluejays loom such a menace to our aspirations, gentlemen,” retorted O’Toole, with a twinkle in his eye, “my humorous contemporary of the Brantford Green Legs had better buy nine shrouds now and fix a date for the wake.” “Too much levity Spider, too much levity: ‘a sooty chimney spoileth many a beefsteak’. Do be advised” continued Nelson, childlike and bland. “The Green Sox team has one batter who is a potential phenomenon. On a clear day he can propel the sphere across the lagoon to the Cape Verde Islands and make it sizzle so that the natives think it is a Jack Johnson or a sputtering meteor from Mars.” This was intended to spike the mortar of the rangy collegian but it didn’t. “See here, Mr. President, be careful that no one hangs crepe on your nose or the public will get on to the fact that your brain is dead”, was the response. “I’ll bet Senator, the Irishmen will stitch up your savages so neatly they will be about as effective as a camera fiend in a London fog.” “If that strain is put on us,” cried O’Toole, “I’ll ride a slippery log over the Chaudiere Dam at Ottawa and you can be there to see from the bridge north of the Chateau Laurier.” And he wished later there was bark on that log. Some one said “Would you indulge in a mild libation if properly approached?” and a wag you all know said “We do not know you well enough to refuse you, is the gentleman with the ‘still’ exclusive?” “So exclusive, my boy,” was the reply, “that you have to be both a True Blue and a Knight of Columbus to gain an _entree_”, and with that their voices died away in the distance. Tim Mullins, Mel. Thomson and Jim Edwards of the G.T.R., who came up from Ottawa said at dinner the day Peterborough and Ottawa clashed that Spider O’Toole refused spaghetti because it squirmed and slid off his fork like the tempter in the Garden of Eden and he finished the meal without ridding himself of a half-defined presentment of evil. It beats the Dutch what odd little whims and superstitious notions some of those base ball players cherish and permit to influence their daily actions and fortunes.