In ’89 the eligibility rules at the college were not as strict as now, so as Princeton needed a tackle, Walter Cash who had played on Pennsylvania the year before, was sent for and came all the way from Wyoming.  He came so hurriedly that his wardrobe consisted of two 6-shooters and a monte deck of cards, on account of which he was dubbed “Monte” Cash.  Cash was not fond of attending lectures, and once the faculty had him up before them and told him what a disgrace it would be if he were dropped out of College.  “It may be in the East, but we don’t think much of a little thing like that out West,” was his reply.  Cash was in the Rough Riders and was wounded at San Juan.

Sport Donnelly was a great end that year.  Heffelfinger the great Yale guard who is probably the best that ever played, said of Donnelly, that he was the only player he had ever seen who could slug and keep his eye on the ball at the same time.  The following story is often told of how Donnelly got Rhodes of Yale ruled off in ’89.  Rhodes had hit Channing of Princeton in the eye, so that Donnelly was laying for him, and when Rhodes came through the line, Donnelly grabbed up two handsful of mud—­it was a very muddy field—­and rubbed them in his face and hollered, “Mr. Umpire,” so that when Rhodes, in a burst of righteous indignation, hit him, the Umpire saw it and promptly ruled Rhodes from the field.

Snake Ames and House Janeway played that year, and as the latter was big—­210 pounds stripped—­and good natured, Ames thought that if he could only get Janeway angry he would play even better than usual, so, with Machiavellian craft, he said to him before the Harvard game, “House, the man you are going to play against to-morrow insulted your girl.  I heard him do it, so you want to murder him.”  “All right,” said House, ominously, and as Princeton won, 41 to 15, Janeway must certainly have helped a heap.

George played center for Princeton four years, and for three years “Pa” Corbin and George played against each other, and, as cow-boys would say, “sure did chew each other’s mane.”  I don’t mean slugged.

My brother Edgar ’91 was a great admirer of George.  In ’88 Edgar was playing in the scrub, and George broke through and was about to make a tackle when the former knocked one of his arms down as it was outstretched to catch it.  George missed the tackle but said nothing.  A second time almost identically the same thing occurred.  This time he remarked grimly, “Good trick that, Poe.”  But when the same thing happened a third time on the same afternoon, he exclaimed, “Poe, if you weren’t so small, I’d hit you.”

In ’89 Thomas ’90, substitute guard, was highly indignant at the way some Boston newspaper described him.  “The Princeton men were giants, one in particular was picturesque in his grotesqueness.  He was 6 feet 5 and, when he ran, his arms and legs moved up and down like the piston rods of an engine.”

In ’90 Buck Irvine ’88 brought an unknown team to Princeton, Franklin and Marshall, which he coached, and they scored 16 points against the Tigers.  And though the latter won, 33 to 16, still that was the largest score ever made against Princeton up to that time.  They did it, too, by rushing, which was all the more to their credit.