Rensselaer Standard, Volume 1, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 September 1879 — CAUGHT ON THE FLY. [ARTICLE]

CAUGHT ON THE FLY.

A Story of the Diamond Green. Fever-heat would have but little expressed the state of feeling iu Glen maple wbeu it be<*ome known to a certainty that a city base ball club was coming to play a match with the atubitious home organization. Even the elders become somewhat enthusiastic, though a* a rule they "pished” and “pshawed” at the entire thing, and vowed they could see nothing in it but “sprained ankles and broken thumbs and fingers, and waste of time and money” —voted it useless, exiiensive and dangerous, and “not one-half «b good us the game they used to play when they were young—uo-tndeed.” . But til is was entirely different from the customary “squabbles” of the country boys, and they gave in as gracefully as they could, and resolved to see “how the thing worked” for once in their lives, though they knew it would not amount to much anyway. It was the girls, however, that gave frea play and vent to their feelings. The advent of “gentlemen from the city” in the quiet, hum-drum village was in itself sufficient to create quite a huge ripple upon the surface of society at any ume. With the additional Incentive of base ball it rose to a furore, and never had the»e been such a demand for blue ribbons and ties and sashes—that being the color of the uniform of the visiting club. IndeeJ, so great was the run upon the one village foncy store, that the slender stock was soon exhausted, and the somewhat antiquated spinster owner notwily driven to her wits end, but nearly distracted. By “hook or by crook,” however, the numerous wants were supplied, ami blonde and brunette, able to flash out in the most dainty attire, with ribbons aud bows and streamers of navy blue, looking their sweeUst and iutent upon “catching” hearts, even though it had to be upon a “foul.” They were a manly lookiug set of young fellows that eAme in the evening (so as to be rested for the game of thp morrow), and ns . they strolled through the streets were wa ehed from bebiud halLeloeed l>lim|s, and discussed at length—they enjoying the same privilege with the group of beauties sauntering about or playing croquet in the ample and tree-shaded dooryards. “A' handsome, distingue-looking fellow,” commenced Laura Osborn as a was questioned by Worth Seymour, who was wasting the hours of early evening at the shrine of his divinityT' * “The one with black hair ami moustache— th* tallest. I never saw a more perfect model of an athlete, or a man move with so much grace.” “Oh, that is ‘the catcher of the Agates—a smart player,, and a very clever fellow, it is said.” “And handsome as Apollo! One could be reconciled being a man, if lie could be such a one.” “And that being impossible, the next thing to do Li to make love to him.” ' ’ * .

, She withdrew from the blinds and flashed her blue eyes upon him mis chievously, looking superbly beautiful in her robe of soft white, relieved at the throat and wrist by knots of azure; with her golden amber haii; similarly relieved, her color richer and deeper than usual, and her face truly a speaking one. 1 “And if I should, what then?” she questioned, with more of fire shadowed forth than he deemed her posr of* “In love with a base-ball player!” he sneered contemptuously and jealously. ' f . “The base applies to the game, not to the man, I take it,” she answered with spirit. *' ‘Honor aud shame’ —you know the rest. I can see no reason why a man cannot indulge in suob r times and still be a gentleman. It an exhibit of strength, skill and practice, of perfect muscular manhood, and is much better earning a living thus than ‘lolling’ around iu Sybarite at ease.” * “But that does not make it incumbent upon a lady to fail i n love with him.” • - v- ’ “The insinuation to thas effect was your own, jiot mine. Women can appreciate aud praise perfectness in the opposite sex without instantly becoming ‘rav.ug mad iu love;* though I fancy such is the poor opinion mankind are accustomed to entertalu of

them, that, in the ‘slang’ of the day, they are perfectly ready aud willing to •throw themselves away’ upon the first specimen of masculinity that gives them the slightest opportunity.” “And, you could marry a man who devotes himself to such au amusement?” hepaked in both astonishment and bitterness. “If la any other respects he was worthy — I loved him as a wife should love a husband—yes?’ was the decisive response. f

The discussion m neither a profitable nor a pleasant one for Seymour, and he changed the subject mentally owning thatthe beautiful girl had both out batted and outiMded him, and if the argument were to be continued be would De most strikingly “Chicsgoed.” Accident threw Laura Osborn and her admirer in the society of the catcher of the Agates later in the evening. A hop had been improvised, and the girl saw him under other auspices than those of the “diamond green”—danced with and found him a gentleman in manners—heard him talk and prove himself to be educated—listened to his clear, rich, tenor voiee when flinging that convinced her he was a gifted and cultivated musician; and. being pipued by her conversation with Seymour, made herself more than usually Agreeable. To Charley Morton she proved the most so of any girls present It was geasant tor him to pass the evening the, society of one so beautiful and accomplished. He exerted himself aceordiiiglv. It was to all the Agates a “game” for that one evening only—would never result in any lifetime “match,” and ft didn’t matter who won, for with to-morrow tha “ball” would be a “dead” one, and no “score” rt main, save it might be in memory. After more than “teu innings” of dance and waltz the gayety ended, and “tonu-runs,” sleep if they could, dream if they would—at ail events, rest for the activity on the morrow, and never a fairer one for pleasure, for the particular spoirt, ever dawned upon the earth. It seamed as if nature was smiling auspiciously upon the undertaking, and resolved that nothing of “Probabilities” sos weather should militate against Success. If manly eyes fought the more liquid and lovely ones cif their partners of theprevious night, it was but natural they should do so. IP soft cheeks flushed at some words that? had been spoken, it was only with a fleeting remembrance, and both were soon forgotten in more stirring scenes. And yet those things gave a zest. Interest and eclat to the matter th it it cou|ld not otherwise have enjoyed—gave prominence to particular actors in the scene and made men play as never befifre. Notably this was the case with Laura Osborn and C harley Morton. Even though the fancy |>etween them was to be simply a passing one, yet for the time it was deepen than that of auy of the others, and sbs looked to him to prove himself theipeer o( all, and he looked to her eyesjror praise. And under the other ci|cumstances such a beginning might easily have resulted in something “serious.” Now it was beyond the possibilities. He was simply a “ball tosslr,” and, to Vunsex Whittier’s l>eauti(ul rustic dream of “Maud Muller,” * 9 “She thought of hetjuistere proud and cold. And her mother, rain of her rank and gold,” I to say nothihg of k father who looked upon the game as little, if any better than low and unworthy the attention of any man—mucl tees woman. The contest commenced, and if the visitors had anticipated and easy victory they soon leagued their mistake. The Maples of Gleu maple were far from being “Muffin” players. They were all young or uncommonly strong frames and in uncles —had been constantly trained irom boyhood in a more laborious school than a gymna--8 uni—bad given noiich time and attention to the game arid made it “hot” for their prouder city cousins from the outset. The “baiting” upon their

side was remarkably heavy—more so thau their opponents could rival, aud offsetted wellHhe superiority in catching and fielding. In fact the visitors early begaifto realize the aptness of the* adage that, though “they came for wool, they might return shorn," and exerted themselves to the uttermost against such a calamity. With every’ inniitg the interest became more inteuseT gide after side was “blanked”—a ihn was the exception—and the game iremised to be one of the best on recorq, even when the ‘•high contracting parties” were among the most noted of professionals Sympathy and good wishes were divided. One party was jubilant and then another. Mad “pools" been sold, the chances would halte been narrowed down to a fine point. Eight innings bad been completed and the score stood even. Never .had such a thing been known in the history of the game at Glenmaple. In sthe expressive language of the gamins who lined the fences and hung thickly as apples upon the trees, it was I‘nip and tuck”—a simile more forcibleJthan polite. With changing c<jk>r JLailra Osborn watched the fiuctatations. She had permitted the enthusiasm of her nature to get the better of her customary modesty, and for the once was wrapped up in the victory of the Agates, and most particularly in the skin, grace and daring of , the catcher. Almost breathlessly, she kept her eyes riveted upon him and applauded a more than ordinarily brilliant play on his oart until her qaitfty blue gloves were hopelessly ruii&ed, and hung in strings, and the palms of her delicate hands bore the semblance of blistering. Had he been her lover her face "could

not have expressed: more sympathy, encouragement and praise. Had she already given her heart to him, Charley Morton could not have performed greater wonders. ) The ninth inning began amid the euthusiam. The piny was next to faultless. Butin despite of all efforts the home club succeeded in breaking the tie and placing themselves one ahead. Then the Agates took their places at the bat, resolved to do or die, and by a brilliant display tied again. But another score must be made to gain the victory. Three men were ou bases, Charley Morton had the Willow in his bauds. He braced himself for a desperate effort, turned the last time upon the glowing face of Laura Osborn and then: > •‘Crash! crash! crash!” The temporary stands erected for the ladies had been overloaded, the living mass had pressed to the front ana leaned out in intense excitement, and with a mighty trembling, splintering and crashing, it reeled and fell, with timbers and warm loving girlhood in one terrible confession. •

The quick eye of Morton, fixed as it had been upon the enthusiastic girl, had noticed the first symptoms of destruction. His hat was thrown aside and he sprang to give what assistance he might, to at least rescue the wounded ana dving and remove the dead. And even as he gained the front of the stand a white-robed form shot through the air over the tumultuous mass of

wood and humanity—a form as if buried from a mortar—and. nerving himself, he caught Laura Osborn in his arms, and saved her from being crushed upon the hard earth. But it was a dangerous, if not deadly, act of generosity. The momentum and weight forced him heavily backward. He warn picked up Insensible and carried to where proper care oouid be taken of him. And foremoat among theee where the parents of the saved fliri. He had risked his own life for her, and, “ball-tosser” or not, their entire hearts went out In gratitude to him, and prompt measures were bis salvation.

“Is he much—very much injured? Will he live?” gasped Laura to tbe young physician who had been summoned. “Yes; it was more a sudden shock than anything else. Have” (and he glanced michievously at her pallid ace,) “save there may be an injury to some of the vital organs—the heart,for instance. And, Mias Osborn, I can also assure you another thing—his name is not Charley Morton, but Frank Lee,an old college chum of mine, an educated gentleman; and of the best blood in the land. The regular pitcher was suddenly taken ill, and he volunteered, as the playbills call it, for this occasion only.” Laura Osborn turned away her beautiful face, into which the hot blood was creeping and curdling, und it was with a sigh of great relief. And —but “I do not rnyrae to that doll elf. Who can not Imagine to himself.” the sweet courtship that followed. And a year later, when asked how he won his lovely bride, Frank Lee answered, more in gratitude than mirth: “I caught her on the fly!”