At the conclusion of the eighth inning the score stood 4-4 and the Spider’s braves in their half of the ninth chalked up but one more circuit as the Bluejays, though nervous did not crack and were making no costly errors. The stands began to rumble as the home players went to bat for the last time, a boy clinging to an over-hanging branch called “Oh Mr. O’Toole, we’ll make you take your gruel” and the palpable excitement of some of the ladies who were on their feet, caused otherwise sober spectators to turn the meeting into temporary pandemonium with waving arms, hats and vocal extravagances. M. J. Baker and his friend Jamieson, came with the saints, and the stentorian tones of Stanton A. Baker, representing the “Great Western”, calling the plays to Tommie Gormally and Harvey Hagerman over at Oshawa, could be plainly heard above the din. In the midst of the uproar Eddie D---- and his acquaintance O. G. C. Willard, faultlessly attired, when passing the grand stand, and thus perchance unconsciously giving the ladies a treat, overheard an Old Country friend with John Ransford exclaim, “Aw, my word, this is a strange game!” “How so strange?” queried John. “The players seem to have an unlimited license to indulge in personalities, don’t you know--hear how they ‘rat’ each other!” “They don’t mean it, those boys are milk-fed, college-bred, and the salt of the earth”, explained the sage from Clinton. “My Eye, observe the pitcher and catcher are even now conspiring to beat the batter”, continued the newcomer. “Oh, that is only camouflage to deceive the enemy,” replied his host. The visitor’s marked impartiality towards the stubborn progress of the contending teams recalls the attitude of the lady whose husband was in mortal combat with a grizzly bear, exclaiming, “I never saw a fight I cared so little about who won”.