We shall not attempt a chemical analysis of the bowling, but merely give the following record of runs, which contains all that is historical—the result.
| “Newhall Eleven.” | |
|---|---|
| Runs. | |
| George Newhall | 20 |
| Sam. Newhall | 19 |
| Hen Newhall | 18 |
| Bill Newhall | 17 |
| Ike Newhall | 18 |
| Tim Newhall | 19 |
| Pete Newhall | 18 |
| Bob Newhall | 19 |
| Dave Newhall | 17 |
| Ed. Newhall | 17 |
| Oldhall himself | 20 |
| Total | 202 |
| “Selected Eleven.” | |
| Runs. | |
| Joseph Large | 0 |
| Ephraim Small | 0 |
| Manassah Medium | 0 |
| John Outerbridge | 15 |
| Jim Innerbridge | 14 |
| Fred Wirebridge | 13 |
| Herb Meade | 5 |
| Pop Beer | 4 |
| Jake Caldwell | 23 |
| Moe Calledill | 11 |
| Abe Rooster | 2 |
| Total | 87 |
In compliance with the request of the Executive Committee, this was the only inning played. Too many foreign visitors lost their fortunes in betting to admit of a continuance.
The day after this match things looked gloomy again. The Philadelphia Rifle Club, designing to take part in the International Shooting Match in September, went out to the Park to practise, taking the shield-like boards containing the Park Regulations for targets. In seven minutes four little children were shot dead. ’Tis true they were very little children, and their parents had plenty more of the same kind at home; still the occurrence was unpleasant. Fortunately the Park Commissioners interfered with this mode of practising before any of the sign-boards had been injured.
An American Camp Meeting and a Mock Battle were the other principal novelties which filled out the programme of the week. We stayed away from the camp-meeting on principle—they kept perpetually passing the contribution box, so of course we know nothing of it, and were not benefited by it. THE DIN
OF WAR.The mock battle, however, was entirely in our line. We come from old Revolutionary stock. The powder box is among our earliest recollections, and we cut our first teeth on bullets. A really first-class mock battle thrills us to the core. We are ready to look on at any time.
The militia encamped in the vicinity of Belmont, and formed during some months of the Exposition, a most attractive feature. The boys, in neat white tents, with carpeted floors, walnut furniture, and spring-chicken breakfasts, endured all the luxuries of real camp-life. They were compelled to rise at eight o’clock every morning, black their boots, brush their hair, and prepare to meet their lady friends. At 2 P. M. the roll was called, and every man was required to report for dinner; after which, the army drove around the Park in carriages supplied by the Commissioners. Foreign commanders of all grades and nationalities pronounced them the cleanest, neatest, jauntiest lot of heroes they had ever seen. Small wonder that the boys wanted a fight!
The battle was to be followed by a hop. Special invitations by Dreka, on tinted paper adorned with suitable monograms, were sent to the lady acquaintances of the warriors taking part. The ground was well sprinkled with saw-dust for the convenience and protection of the dying and the dead.
At eight A. M., the boys having risen an hour earlier than usual, Col. R. Dale Benson entered the ring and rode around it three times at break-neck speed, amid the tremendous plaudits of a tremendous crowd. In one hand he carried the stars and stripes; in the other, his unsheathed sword. His horse’s bridle he held between his teeth. With a final “Houp La,” he vanished behind the screen. General Wagner, who commanded the opposing party, then rode in, bowed to the audience, and placed a chip of wood on his left shoulder. Benson returned, minus the flag, and boldly knocked the chip off. THE COMBAT DEEPENS—
ON, YE BRAVES!This was the signal for the fray. Drums were beat, trumpets sounded; the crowd applauded, children shrieked, women fainted, and amid all the din,—
“Forth from the canvas tent,
Marched the First Regiment,”
while from the opposite side of the field, the Second Regiment and the Jersey Blues approached, preceded by the West Point Drum Corps. Around from the left wing, cautiously moving forward, came the Keystone Battery, each swarthy gunner with a camelia in his button-hole, while the City Troop, bouncing upon their martial steeds, came gaily from the right. Suddenly their captain, Rogers, rushed to the centre of the arena. He waved his sword on high.