AU REVOIR.

BY HENRI MONTCALM.

 

 

‘Twas but a word one little word,

My lips had said, her ears had heard,
One httle word whose an ry sense
Had made such sudden d fierence;
And all at once we silent grew, ‘
While with swift motion she withdrew
Her little hand from in my own;

And then, the green lane turning down,
We slowly went with beating heart
Walking together, yet apart.

We reached the farngard gate at last,
I held it o 11 while 9 passed;
Then, as e turned. I bout my head
Above her ban and hoarser said:

“ Since all is o’er tween us two
It but remains to say Adieu I"

I waited—ah! would she not say

One word to me? I turned away.

Then softly low she spoke once more:
“ Nay, not Adieu, but—Au. revoir 1”

Under thgfi Surface: I

Murder W ill Out.
A STORY or PHILADELPHIA.

BY WM. MASON TURNER, M. D.

AUTHOR or “ UNnER BAIL,” “ mum. VANE,”
arc, are.

CHAPTER XII. "
ROMANCE AND REALITY.
ON the night following the ball Clinton Craig

 

 

 

, stood on the brown—stone steps of old Charles

Clayton’s fine mansion on Walnut street, op~
posite Rittenhouse square.

_ The wind was Sweeping by, rude and brust-
ling; but the young gentleman had not long to
wait. The door was soon opened.

“ Is Miss Clayton in?" he asked of the serv-
ant-girl who had answered his summons,

“ Yes, sir,” was the reply, hesitatingly
given. “But she is indisposed and desires to
see no one. ” v

“ This is a disappointment, indeed!” mutter-
ed the young man, the chagrin he felt showing
upon his face. “ Is the young lady sick?”

“ Not sick, exactly, sir, but quite fatigued.
She did not reach home from the Academy ball
until three o’clock this morning.”

“ Ah! yes,” muttered Clinton.

The young man was still reluctant to go.
He had had a pretty good rest, and, besides,
he was burning with anxiety to see his inamc-
rate.

“ I do not like to intrude," he said, apolo-
getically; “ but will you kindly take my card
to Miss Clayton, and say to her that I crave
only a few moments of her time?”

The domestic bowed respectfully, and taking
the card entered the house. She left the visi—
tor in the v ibule. She had been gone only
a moment wh n she returned.

“ Walk in, fir,” she said. “ Miss Clayton
bids me say that she will be delighted to see
You” _

A joyous, almost heavenly thrill flashed
through Clinton Craig’s bosom as he quickly
entered the warm hall, and then walked into
the dimly—lit elegant parlor.

“ Glorious! glorious!” he murmured, as he
strode up and down the luxurious apartment,
in a very exhilaration of feeling. “ Why am I
thus destined to so much happiness? To pomes
the love of such a. noble, resplendent being, to
be allowed to bask in the sunshine of her smiles,
to dare call her mine, is bliss—nay, the very
intoxication of bliss! But,” and he paused as
his brow slightly wrinkled, “ would Minerva
love me if I were not heir to a. large fortune?
What strange words she used at the Academy
last night, when speaking of Algernon Floyd.
And how coolly she danced with that follow!
’Sh! nonsense; I am not jealoth least of
such as Algernon Floyd. And yet, I had for-
gotten!”

As he spoke a dark shade passed over his
face.

“Yes, confound it!” he resumed, in an un-
easy tone, “I forgot entirely the fellow’s im-
pudent demand upon me! Can I satisfy him?
Can I meet this man? Shall I expose my life
to his bullet, now when happiness iswithin my
very grasp? Can I refuse him the satisfaction
which he has asked of me, as a gentleman?
Ye gods!” and he gripped his hands fiercely.
(f I__ha__”

Do what he could the young man could not
drive away the ominous frown from his brow as
Minerva Clayton, all luxuriousness, all loveli—
nose, all frankness and confidence, swept into the
parlor.

But in the half-gloom reigning there the
queenly girl noticed not the perturbed look rest—
ing on her lover’s face.

“ Delighted to see you, Clinton!” she exclaim-

’ ed, cordially, holding out her warm, plump

I

 
     

hand. “ I have been thinldng of you, darling,
all the afternoon.”

Clinton Craig trembled with adelicious ex-
citement. He led her softlytc a. sofa, and seat-
ing himself near her clasped her hand in his
and murmured, in a low, ardent voice:

“ And did you wish to see me? did you long
for me to come, dearest one?”

“ Can you ask such a question, Clinton?” she
replied, running her jeweled fingers lightly
through the young man’s clustering looks.

A conversation ensued which only lovers can
hypothecate and appreciate.

As all of our readers may not confess to the
“soft impeachment,” as many, perhaps, have
gone through this “ foolishness " (i), we will
omit the honeyed words that passed between
the two young folks.

Minutes and hours sped by. At last, the
young man looked up. His eyes were glitter—
ing with excitement, his face was flushed, and
his heart throbbed with anexultant joy that he
did not care to conceal.

“ And when shall the happy day be, darling?”
he murmured. “ Speak, Minerva; I await your
answer.”

The girl turned her head away as a blush
mantled her fair check; but in an instant she
bent hergane frankly on the young man’s face
and said:

, “ Whenever you may decide, Clinton.
yours even now, and readyto obey you.”

“ Heaven bless you, Minerva! I’ll never
profane your love. Now what say you to one
week from tonight!” 7

Again Minerva turned her head away; but
as before it was only for a moment.

She faced him again; butshe did not lift her
head as she replied:

“ ’Tis soon, very soon, Clinton; and pops?
You know he must be consulted; but I’m sat-
isfied that he will not object. Say two weeks
from lac-night, and my bond shall be yours, as
my heart already is.”

“ It shall be as you wish, darling; and—”

Just then the bell rung, clamorously.

“ Who can it be?” murmured Minerva.
“ ’Tis very late,” and she glanced at the clock.

Then a rap sounded on the parlor—door, and
meat entered the room with a letter in her

d. _

Iain

“A man brought this for you, Mr. Craig,”
she said. “ He Wishes you to attend to its con-
tents at once.”

With some misgiving, Clinton took the let-
ter, and, excusing himself to Minerva, drew
near the hall gaslight which was burning
brightly. Tearing open the envelope, he hur-
riedly read the letter through. Before he had
perused a dozen words his brow contracted and
his cheeks reddened. When he had finished he
crushed the sheet rudely into his pocket and re—
entsred the parlor.

“ I must go, Minerva,” he said, hurriedly.
“Yet, it is certainly time that I should,” he
continued, with an attempt at a smile as he
glanced toward the handsome clock. “Truth
is, I am wanted at home.”

“Who wants you, Clinton?” asked the girl,
eying him keenly, for she had noted his every
movement since the reception of the letter; and
she had marked with some foreboding his, evi-
dently, perturbed manner.

» “Why,” hesitatingly, “Dr. Ashe, darling.
He wishes to see me on some business of im-
portance, he says.”

“I don’t like Dr. Ashe!” said the girl, blunt-
1y.
“ You do not know him well enough, Miner-
va; he is a fine fellow, though somewhat whim-
sical. I dare say his business is to sit up with
me until two o’clock in the morning and smoke
my cigars.”

“If that is all, Clinton, send him word that

‘ you are engaged, and that you will see him to—

morrow,” suggested the young lady.

Young Craig colored.

“ No, Minerva,” he answered, “ I must go.
Fred means business, or he would not have sent
for me at this hour. I must say good-night,
darling.”

He leaned over her and premeda w pas-
sionate kiss upon the willing lips that were held
up to his. _

“ lVas ever man so accursed!” he muttered
to himself a few moments afterward, as he was
hurrying along the cold, wind-blown street.

But he did not go toward the office Of Dr.
Ashe. He cromed Broad street, and, reaching
Spruce, hastened on. Fifteen minutes after-
ward he entered his adopted father’s residence,
just as the hell on Independence Hall peeled
out the hour of midnight.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
ABROAD ON ran RIVER.

ABOUT four o’clock in the afternoon of this
same day the figure of a tall man suddenly
emerged from the shadow of Girard avenue
bridge and stood for a moment in the sunshine.
Ho glanced hastily around him and peered up,
guardedly, at the embankment and the bridge.
No one was in sight; 9. rumbling country-wag—
on jolting along the frozen road had justpam—
ed over the river. The wind was blowing too
raw and bitter this cold December afternoon
for pleasure-seekers to be abroad. However in-
viting and enticing the scenery when the
“warm south ” was sweeping over the land it
was far different now when grim Winter héld
his court, sent forth his blinding snows and
trooping winds, and froze the running rills and
babbling brooks.

The man cautiously climbed the rugged bill
by the bridge. Then he paused and peered
once again around him. Still no one was in
sight. Hastily descending to his former posi-
tion, he approached the edge of the stream, and
drew a coil of cord from his pocket. To the
end of the line was attached a heavy leaden
weight. Glancing about him for the last time,
he swung the weighted cord over his head and
cast it out into the dark current:

“Not deep enough!” he muttered, in a. vex.
ed tone, as he drew in the line. “ Yet this
must and shall be the place; for it suits! I’ll
try again” _

Whirling the lead once more around hishead
he let fly.

The line spun far out, and the weight fell
with a peculiar gluck into the water.

Still he shook his head as for the third time
he cast the line, and marked the depth of the
water on the soggy cord. At last he succeeded
in throwing the lead nearly to the first pier,
the line running rapidly through his hands un-
til the bottom was reached. He had found
deep water.

A grim smile of satisfaction spread over the
man’s face, as, noting the spot with his eye, by'
the distance from the shore, from the pier, and
by a particular line with the bridge above, be
slowly coiled in the cord.

“I’ve found the place!” he ejaculated, haul-
ingin the slack. “ It will do. But, by Jove! so
soon I” he muttered, in an anxious tone, as, draw-
ing the string through his fingers, half-formed ice
fell at his feet. “ The river is freezing! It
will be frozen hard before day. Will that be
good orbadfor me? But I must hurry; we
must meet him. The sun will soon be down,
and—yes; it will be almost dark by five o’clock.
Glorious!” he continued, in an excited voice, as
turning away from the river he hurried on to—
ward the old house—-Bloody Men’s—which we
have before mentioned.
hand to-night; any! and 11M].ny I”

In ten minutes, having crept successfully
arOund the jutting c1iff—-— mean feat—he
cautiously drew near the house. The door was
shut, and, with one exception, the windows
were closed. But the fellow rapped boldly.
No response. Again he knocked. Again, no
response. The man cast an anxious gaze to-
ward the fest setting sun.

A coarsc face, one evidently disguised with
daubs of paint and false beard, was that upon
which the slanting mmbeams fell. It was a
face, however, keenly alive to passing events,
as the roving black eyes, flashing around, indi-
cated.

With a muttered curse, he kicked the door
heavily. * In answer to this imperative sum-
mons the bolt suddenly turned and Mother Moll
peered out.

“Ah!” she muttered, in a low, satisfied tone.
“Soitis ou myd ”

“’Sh! ’sSh! Moll; 11% names! I am on busi-
ness; and~—-why, of course, you don’t know me,
never laid eyes on me before~eh?”

“Of course, my friend; you and your busi-
ness are safe with me. Come in; the wind is
cold and piercing.”

The man hemtated.

“ No, Moll,” he answered. “Time is, pre-
cious; I’ve none of it to spare. But have you
any company i”

“ No. I have had but one visitor today.
He has gone out for prop—Black Ben.”

As she spoke she eyed the fellow closely.

‘That person visibly started; but quickly re—
covering himself he said:

“ Black Ben is not to be trusted, Moll; he is
given to tricks and treachery.”

“ Ah? Strange! He says the same of—
others!” was the woman’s reply. 1’“ But,” she
continued, as if getting impatient and anxious
to terminate this conference in the cold air,
“ how can I serve you?”

“ I want the skiff, Moll.”

“ The skiff? Why the river is freezing now,
and.”

 

“I’ve stern work on '

“ Confound the freezing!” interrupted the
man, rudely. “Did Isay anything about that?
I want the skiff; I’ll pay well for it, and in
advance. But, hank ye, Moll, I have not been
here to-day, and 1 dict not borrow the skim
eh?”

“Exactly. You shall have the skiff. But
what’s the game?”

“ Canalers are still about; you are forgetful,
Moll!” -

“ Precious few there are, my friend,” was
the woman’s quick reply. ‘ “Yes; and they are
well housed: But the skiff is yours—three dol—
lars in advance, the price,” she hastened to say
in a business—like way.

“ Good! here are six dollars, Mo ,” answered
the man, promptly, as he felt in his pocket and
handed out the money in silver quarters.

“You are liberal, my fi'iend; you are flush,”
said Moll, suspiciously. '

“I am that way occasionally; but the skiff,
Moll; Iaminahurry. Itell youIamfullof
work lac-night.”

“ Glad to hear it, and hope you’ll be paid
well. But, how many cars?”

The man hesitated for a. moment.
answered:

“Two pairs, Moll, of course; for the current
is strong, you know, and ice is already making.”

“ Do you wish the shot?” asked the woman,
in_a. whisper.

“Shot ! Nonsense, Moll. Nothing of that
sort, old gir ,” and the speaker laughed grimly.

“ Well, the skiff is under the shed. Two
pairs of cars are in it.” ,

“ Good. I’ll have everything back before
daybreak, ice or no ice. Good night.”

“ Good night,” and the woman closed the
door and disappeared.

The man at once drew the light skiff from
under the shed, and springing lightly in, shoved
it off. The» light c soon felt the rushing
current, and guided by the man who sat in the
stern sheets, it shot rapidly down the stream.
As soon, however, as the old woman’s house
was hid behind the beetling rock, the man
grasped an car, and, using it asan oar, sent the
boat, with a few vigorous strokes,driving ashore
under an overhanging clump of dead bushes.
He sprung out and searching around soon found
and flung into the skid a bag, tied around one
end with a stout cord.

Once aboard again, the fellow shoved off,
and taking the cars rowed rapidly down stream
toward the dam.

Then he

CHAPTER XIV.
CLINTON CRAIG’S COMPANY.

THE letter which had hastened Clinton Craig’s
departure from Minerva Clayton’s presence,
was quite brief, though urgent, and imperative
in tone. It ran thus:

“ DEAR. C.

“I know where you are. I take the liberty to
send John, and bid you herewith, to come home at
once. Trouble is brewing, and you are wanted. I
am in your room; and you have company waiting
for you. Hang it! I have been here two hours!
Don t be wasting the night in—folly, to say the least,
when serious matters demand your attention.
Come at once, and from hisunpleasant osition,
relieve, ‘ Yours sincerely, ERRED.”

When Clinton reached home, and entered,
he stood for a moment in the ball, as though-he
was undecided. The young fellow felt that
some great trouble was impending, that some
ominous cloud was stretching over the horizon,
and casting a black, impenetrable shadow at
his feet.

But banishing his dark thoughts, he threw
aside his hat and overcoat, and ascending the
stairs lightly—for the hour was late—he turned
to the left and entered his room.

Fred Ashe was seated near the grate. He
was quietly smoking a. cigar, and gazing va-
cantly at the red coals. But ‘a seriOus shade
restednpon the doctor’s face, and the expres-
sion of his eyes was anxious and foreboding.
Was he thinking of Alice Ray, lost to him?
Was he thinking of Alice Ray, probably lost
to the world? Or, was he thinking of troubles
in which his bosom friend was involved?

But as Clinton entered the room, Fred tum-

‘ed to a man who sat near the table, and

said:

“ I am happy to inform you, sir, that this is
Mr. Craig.”

The man arose and bowing half-respectfully,
half-carelessly, said in a tone that was quite
steady and composed:

“Excuse me for presuming to await your
coming, sir. Time was an object with me, and
I could not postpone the occasion of my visit——
an unpleasant one, sir, but One which I have
not hesitated to perform. I have the honor to
hand you this communication.”

He held out an unsealed envelope to the
young man. .

“Be seated, sir, and excuse me a moment,”
said young Craig, politely, at the same time re-
ceiving and opening the missive. He read it
through carefully. Then, without movinghis
head, he glanced over the top of the sheet at
the man who had brought it. His scrutiny was
but momentary.

’ The man was a. short, heavily-built fellow.
True enough he was clad as a gentleman; but
he did not bear about him the breeding of
one.

“ I suppose, sir, you are acquainted with the
contents—with the tone of this communica-
tion?” asked Clinton, glancing again at his
strange company.

“ I am,” was the prompt reply.
await your answer, sir. ”

This was business-like and to the point. _

“Can you oblige me by returning to-morrow
when I will be better prepared to reply to this
note? I need a few hours to deliberate on the
matter.”

“I was under the impression, sir, that you
had been informed of this expected call. If I
mistake not, such was the information I receiv-
ed from my frien .”

The man spoke very coolly.

Clinton Craig winced; and his cheeks slight-
ly reddened. In his mad joy, and his love-
blindness for Minerva. Clayton, the young man
had, indeed, forgotten almost everything. He
certainly had forgotten his note that morning
requesting his friend, Fred Ashe, to call in the
evening.

But he amused himself and asked:

“Are you aware, sir, of the relations exist-
ing between Algernon Floyd and myself?”

“ If rumor speaks truly, I am aware, sir,
that no real relationship exists between you—-
Mr. Floyd,” and he made a spiteful emphasis,
“blood-nephew to your adopted father. Cer~
tainly that relationship should not be a bar to a
meeting between gentlemen. ”

Again young Craig’s face flushed; and this
time he bit his lip angrily.

“ There is no relationship, sir, which can
make one backward in such a matter as this,”
he answered, tartly. “ Excuse me while I have
five minutes’ private conversation with my
friend here.”

“ Certainly,” and the man turned coolly to a.
book of photographs, while Clinton, beckoning
Dr. Ashe to follow him, withdrew to an ad-
joining room.

“A confounded bed matter, Fred, and what

“I now

 

am I to do?” exclaimed the young man, as soon

- floor.

 

as they were out of earshot. “ Ay! and all
this right under my adopted father’s nose!’

“ Don’t disturb yourself about that, Clinton,”
returned the doctor. “ Mr. Floyd is absent
from home to—nigh .”

“Absent? And where is be?”
young man, in surprise.

“When I came here this evening, old Barton
told me that your father had been suddenly
summoned to Manayunk. I believe one of the
mills had stopped, and the foreman wanted the
old gentleman to come out and look at it. He
will return to-morrow—or, rather to—day; for
’tis now half-past twelve o’clock”

“A raw night for the good old man; and he
so delicate and frail. But Fred, this business
with Algernon Floyd is a troublesome matter.
Yesterday morning I would have welcomed
such a. message from him; but now,” and he
sighed, “it gives me annoyance.”

“Exactly; I suppose it’s on account of your
relations to Minerva Clayton? Do not be of-
fended at my frankness, Clinton; I am your
friend.”

“ I am not offended, Fred; and it is on Min-
erva’s account that I am disinclined to meet
this fellow. We are engaged, Fred; we will be
married two weeks from to—m'ght.”

The young physician started back.

“ Good heavens!” he exclaimed. “ Then, my
friend, it is, indeed, too late to warn you of
that woman—of Minerva Clayton!”

“Warn me, Fred! Speak not of Miss Clay-

asked the

ion in such terms; she is my affianced.”

Fred Ashe made no reply; he simply hosed
his head and kept his eyes fastened upon the
Suddenly, however, he looked up and
said, decidedly: ‘

“ Whatever may be your relations and your
engagements, Clinton, you are still classed
among gentlemen; as such you are accountable.
I know the contents of that note, the fellow
who brought it took commendable pains to en-
lighten me on the subject. Moreover, he vol--
unteered this statement, that in case you re-
jected the invitation to mortal combat, Alger—
non Fbyd would post you in the clubs as a
puppy and a coward, and would seek a. street
encounter with you.”

“The contemptible scoundrel!” and Clinton
Craig’s eyes flashed venomously. “ This deter-
mines me, Fred; I’ll meet the fellow, and my
aim shall not fail me!”

“Truth is, Clinton, you could not do other—
wise—I wish that you could,” said the phy-
sician. “ But, appreciating the position in
which I already feared that you were placed,
I offered this fellow myself as your substitute
either in a renconter with him or with his

principal.”
“Noble Fred! But you shall run no such
risk for me. Come What may, I will give Al—

gernon Floyd satisfaction”

So saying, accompanied by his friend, he re-
entered the room wherein he had left the bear-
er of the challenge. ‘

“I accept this letter—the invitation which
it contains, sir,” he said, quietly; “and I refer
you to my friend here, Dr. Ashe.”

“Thanks foryour promptness, sir. I sup-
pom, doctor,” turning to the young physician,
“as time is precious, and as I think it is the
desire of all parties to have this affair settled
as soon as possible, we might as well make our
brief arrangements here?”

“ At your service,” responded the doctor,
coldly, and not even consulting Clinton.

The two drew their chairs close together and
at once entered into a. low conversation.
Young Craig stood all the ' e at the further
side of the room, his head bowed upon his bo-
som.

The conference between the seconds lasted
for some time. At length they arose.

“Thank you, doctor; it is arranged to my
entire satisfaction. And
tinucd, “ that, in view of the fact that we Wish
the matter to be as quiet as possible, you will
extend surgical aid in case my friendis wound-
ed?”

“In that event I am, most assuredly, at his
service,” was the ready reply.

“ Thanks, sir; and I have the honor to bid
you good-night, gentlemen. ”

He bowed and left the room. Dr. Ashe ac-
companied him to the street-door, and return—
ed in a few moments.

“You must go to bed, Clinton—andtosleep,
too,” he said, positively. “You need rest; for
your hand must be steady in the morning.”

The physician spoke gravely.

“In the morning! Ha! so soon?”

“Yes; and the sooner the better; but come,
Clinton: under such circumstances as this, it is
both customary and necessary to make ar-
rangements of one’s affairs—in case—why, of
accident, you know. You meet to—morrow
morning at half-past eight o’clock; the place,
back of Lemon Hill; the weapons, dueling—pis-
tols; the distance, ten paces.”

A conference, lasting an hour, took place be-
tween the two friends. When it ended Clinton
Craig, sad and gloomy, arose and said, with
deep emotion: ,

“ Heaven bless you, Fred! and heaven stand
by me in this encounter—for Minerva’s sake!”
and he went from the room.

Dr. Ashe remained with his friend thatnight.

 

Early next morning, as the sun was rising
over the cold, clear—rimmed horizon, a. couple
of carriages drew up from different directions
on Girard avenue—at that time almost a coun—
try road—to the rear of Lemon Hill. The ex—
act spot was where at this day stand the re-
mains of the earth-breastwork thrown up dur-
ing the recent civil war.

From each of these two carriages descended
two gentlemen. They hastily took their way
over the little hill, through the frozen snow,
until they had reached a small level plateau.
N 0 time was lost with the preliminary arrange-
ments; and after a little sharp wrangling be-
tween the seconds, in which Dr. Ashe carried
his point, the principals took their places. They
saluted coldly. 3

“Does the challenger insist on going on
with this duel?” asked Dr. lithe, after a mo-
ment’s pause.

“ He does!” was the prompt reply, from Al-
gernon Floyd himself.

“So it!” returned the doctor; and, passing
near his principal, he whispered:

“Be firm, my friend! and watch him 1”

He strode on and withdrew to a safe dis-
tance.

The giving of the word, and the dropping of
the handkerchief had fallen by lot to Floyd’s
second. Taking his place, the fellow said, in 9.
low, but distinct voice:

“ Are you ready, gentlemen?”

“Ready!” returned both of the men who
stood, with the deadly weapons in hand, facing
one another.

“ Then fire at the word three. Again: are
you ready?"

“Ready!” was the simultaneous response.

“Then: one.’—-twol—”

Before the word three was reached there
came a flash, and a. report. '

One of the principals staggered backward and
sunk into the pallid snow.

 

(To be continued—commenced in No. 388.)

Cr

I ask,” he con—4

 

Basile".

BY HENRY CHADWICK.

THE PROFESSIONAL ARENA.

Norse on THE Dan—The Hartford Times,
not long since, published a. statement emanating
from Bond of the Hartford Club team to the ef-
fect that Bond had openlyi charged Ferguson
with selling gam Ferguson published a. card
in reply of cou denying the charges and ex—
pressing his surprise at seeing such aparagraph
inprint. No one believed the charge who knew
Ferguson, but it had a. bad effect, which even
the explicit denial—~eating his own words, it
may be said—which Bond has since published
will not offset. Bond’s card is as follows:

Hmrroan, Coax, fin

. 25th, 1876.
M. G. BULKELEY, Esq., Pres. H. B. lub:

In reply to your letter in regard to Captain Fer-
guson’s play in recent games, I desire to say that
whatever charges of “crooked” play or willfully
losing games were made by me, were entirely un-
founded, and made in a moment of excitement, and
I cheerftu acknowledge the wron I have done
both to the club and its manager ans make this the
only reparation in my power. Tamas H. BOND.

The effect of the quarrel-—for Bond and For—
guson do not speak—Will be to mar the ef-
ficiency of the nine and to lose the Hartford
Club the position in the pennant race they
would otherwise have won. ~

There are now in the professional arena
over twenty club teams outside of the League
Association, thesc clubs being located West,
East and North as follows: St. Louis, Indian-
apolis, Columbus, Wheeling, Allegheny City,
Reading, Wilmington, Harrisburg, Elizabeth,
New York, Brooklyn, Dion, Ithaca, Syracuse,
Binghampton, Bridgeport, New Haven, Provi-
dence, Fall River, Lowell and in London and
Guelph, Canada. What the majority of these
clubs have been able to accomplish in matches
with League club nines may be judged by the
appended record of defeats all the League nines,
except the Chicago team, have sustained at the
hands of outside professional teams:

A ’l 27, New Haven vs. Boston,at Providence.13
ay 3, New Haven vs. Hartford,at Hartford. 6

“ 4, New Haven vs. Hartford, at New
Haven.....- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 7

“ 17, New Haven vs. Athletic, at New Ha-
ven . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
“ 22, Harvard vs. Boston, at Boston ..... .. 7

J une 5, Philadelphia vs. Athletic, at Philadel-

p a ..  
“ 7, New Haven vs. St. Louis. at New Ha-

 

ven . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _ . . . . . . ..
~‘ 9, New Haven vs. St. Louis, at New Ha-
ve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“ 19, Buckeye vs. Boston, at Columbus... . 7

“ 30, BuckeHve vs. Hartford, at Columbus. 5
July 7, New t_a.ven vs. Cincinnati, at Cincin-
na. 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
“ 10, New Haven vs. Cincinnati, at Cincin-
na 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . a. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“ 28, Rhode Island vs. Boston, at Provi-

enoe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 4

Au . 4, New Haven vs. Mutuahat New Haven 9

8
“ 4, Live Oak vs. Athletic, at L 8

4, Buckeye vs. Cincinnati, at Columbus 8
“ 22, Ind‘ipfiiapolis vs. LouiSville, at Louis-
6

.-
.-

.............................. . . 6

“ 26, New Haven vs. Hartford,at Hartford.12
“ 28, Tecumseh vs. St. Louis, at London,
(ten innings) . . . . . . . . ..,. ........ ..

“ 28, Star vs. Boston, at Syracuse... .. .. 4
“ 28, Buckeye vs. Cincinnati, at Columbus,
(ten innings) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Aug. 29, Maple Leaf vs. St. Louis, at Guelph. 9

“ 29, Standard vs. Cincinnati,” Wheelingll

‘ 30, Alleghang vs. Cincinnati,at Pittsburg 2

“ 31, Star vs. t. Louis, at S racuse . . . . . . . 7
Sept. 1, Cricket vs. Boston, at inghampton,
(5 innings) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“ 1, Active vs. inciunati, at Readin . . . . 9

“ 2, Resolute vs. Mutual, at Elizabe  3

“ 4, New Haven vs. Cincinnati, at New .

Haven . . . . . . . . ................... . . 6

It will be seen that the New Haven Club
bears off the palm in victories over League
nines, they having defeated the St. Louis, Hart-
ford, Mutual, Boston, Athletic and Cincinnati
nines. By way of showing how they would
have stood on the record as a League team we
give below a table with their names and record
included. The table is up to Sept. 4th, in-
elusive:

:-

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43;6;95521044
-336462737
3—165395439
32—2895635
1414;-—-344829
1423—32622
, 01124-0413
NewHaven . . . . . . . . . . . .. 0 2 3 1 0 1 1—- 3 11
Cincmna' ti ............ ..02102020_7
Games Lost ........... .. 1219l18f23129l28.39!21 48 237

 

 

 

The first games of the last Eastern tour of the
Western League nines were played in Phila-
delphia, Brooklyn, Hartford and Boston on
Sept. 5th, and the result was an even fight as
between the East and the West, as Boston
whipped Cincinnati and Hartford polished off
Louisville. But St. Louis gave Brooklyn a.
“ Chicago” defeat and Chicago took the Ath-
letics into camp. The scores were as follows:
Sept. 2, St. Louis vs. Mutual, at Brookl n.. .. 9 0

‘ , Hartford vs. Louisville, at Hargford. 6 1

“ 5, Chicago vs. Athletic, at Philadelphiall 5

“ 5, Boston vs. Cincinnati, at Boston. . . .17 4

A good game was played the same day at
Syracuse where the St. Louis “ Reds ” were de-
feated by the local Stars by 1 to 0.

 

 

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