out. He finished in silence, but his words had made a deep impression on his hearers, and especially upon the players, not one of whom could find words sufficient to thank him for the glowing eulogy of the national game that he had delivered. The Cardinal displayed the greatest interest in the game, toward which he had been looking forward for some time, and which was arranged especially for him at his invitation. The curving of the pitched ball attracted his attention at the outset, and he spent some time in investigating the phenomenon from behind the wire screen. No detail of the game escaped his watchful eye.
The following reprint from the Chicago Tribune, in 1906, is presented as showing what a strong hold our national game has upon some very excellent and highly religious people, whose counterparts live in every village and city in America:
"Rev. Mr. Perkins (so-called because that isn't anything like his real name) is one of the shining lights of the Episcopalian Church in Chicago, a man noted for his high ideals and his good works.
"Rev. Mr. Perkins has a son who strayed into strange ways, and finally wound up as a Base Ball reporter—and a corking good one. Indeed, he is almost as well known in his line as his reverend father is in his.
"The son never laid any claim to being wise in his father's line, but Rev. Mr. Perkins always has had quite an idea that he would have made quite as good a Base Ball reporter as minister."Thereby hangs a tale. Last year the son was an ardent and faithful supporter of the Cubs. His heart was with Comiskey, but he couldn't see how Commy's bunch ever could beat Murphy's crew. His father, who attends Base Ball as often as there is no service, or meeting of the guild, was a wild and woolly admirer of the Sox, and one of the most ardent believers that they could beat anything on earth. And at home, instead of starting a discussion on higher criticism, the father and son debated strongly upon the relative