and power of its founder, and the coming of a second railroad, which was seeking a charter, would really forge to the front, and leave the "big town down the river" in the lurch. Therefore, quite naturally, the rivalry between the two places was intense in other things besides baseball.
There is nothing like the game, however, to bring to the surface the jealousies and rivalries existing between towns having contending teams; something about the game is certain to tear open old sores and stir up ancient animosities apparently long forgotten.
Especially is this true in minor leagues and "out in the bush," where not infrequently it appears to the chance stranger that whole towns—men, women, and children—have gone baseball crazy.
It is in such places that one may see the game, as a game, at its best—and its worst. Here victory or defeat assumes a tragic importance that must seem laughable to the ordinary city fan; the former being frequently the cause of rejoicing and celebrating, sometimes with fireworks and brass bands, while the latter will cast over the community a cloud of gloom which could be equaled only by an appalling catastrophe.
This intensity of feeling and emotion may
