When he heard the ball come rollin’ down the tin, he would “muff” it with his wash-bord.  Then the excitement would begin.  The “striker” would start off and go feelin’ about the “field” for the base, while the “outs” got down onto their bands and knees and went huntin’ for the ball.

Sometimes a “fielder,” whose sense of feelin’ wasen’t very acute, got hold of a cobble stun, then he would waddle, and grope his way about, to find the base.  But I tell you it was soothin’ fun for the old men.

After lookin’ 20 minuts for a ball, then findin’ the base before the batter did, who just as like as not had strayed out into another lot, it made the old fellers laff.

Sometimes two players would run into each other and go tumblin’ over together.  Then the “Umpire” would go and get them onto their pins agin, and give ’em a fresh start.

On each side of this interestin’ match game, was two old men who went on crutches.

It was agreed, as these men coulden’t run the bases, that a man be blindfolded and wheel these aged cripples about the bases in a wheel-barrer.

The minnit these old chaps would “strike,” they dropped their crutches, and the umpire would dump them into the vehicle, and away went mister striker.

A player was bein’ wheeled this way once, and the “outs” was down onto their marrow-bones tryin’ to find the ball, when a splash! was heard.  The wheel-barrer man had run his cart into a goose pond, and made a scatterin’ among the geese.

“Fowl!” cride the Umpire.

The wheel-barrer man drew his lode ashore.

“Out!” hollers the Umpire.

And another victim went to the wash-bord.

Bets were offered 2 to one, that “The Roomatixs” would pass more balls—­on their hands and knees—­than the “Bloostockin’s.”  These bets were freely taken—­by obligin’ stake-holders.

A friend of the “Bloostockin’s” jumped upon a pile of stuns and said: 

“15 to 10 ‘the Roomatix’ have got more blinds than the ‘Bloostockin’s.’”

No takers—­I guess he would have won his bet, for just at this juncture a “Roomatix” was at the bat.

The Umpire moved his head.

The old man thought it was the ball, and he “muffed” the “Umpire’s” head with his wash-bord.

The Umpire turned suddenly and wanted to know:  “Who was firin’ spit balls at his back hair?”

One “innins,” the ball was rolled through, it struck the batter in the rite eye.

“Out on rite eye,” cride the Umpire, and the batter was minus an eye.

Next man to the bat.

His eyes were gummy.  He coulden’t see the ball.

He heard the ball rollin’.

He raised his wash-board.

His strength gave way.

Down came the bat, and the handle of the wash-bord entered his eye.

“Out! on the left eye,” screams the Umpire.

Old man No. 3 went to the wash-bord.