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it hab always struck me that the story told by A. G. Spalding, who was the pitcher for the Forest Citys at the time, is the most romantic. It may lack substance, but it is so picturesque that I will give it. "Back in the early seventies." says Spalding, "I was playing with the Forest Citys of Rockford, 111., which was that season one of the strongest teams in the country. One day during the summer we received a letter from a man who signed himself Anson. It was written at Marshalltown. Ia., and its object was to secure a visit from the Forest Citys to Marshalltown. Mr. Anson modestly stated in his letter that they had a baseball team at that place whose members were of the firm •ad unanimous opinion that they could under the most favorable circumstances play the Forest Citys several close games. If we would fix upon a few dates'In the near future Mr. Anson's club would insure us a warm Welcome to Marshalltown and a lively time while we tarried 'within their hospitable gates.
"The result was an acceptance and the naming of a date for the following •week. When the time came our team, accompanied by half a dozen Chicago drummers, ran over to Marshalltown to have some fun with the country team.
"As soon as we got to the hotel the Chicago drummers began to look around for some bets on the game. Somewhat to their surprise, they had no trouble to find numerous men and citizens of Marshalltown ready to back their club at odds. The favorite bet was even money that we would not beat the home team two to one.
"By the time the game began our players and the Chicago drummers had covered about all the spare money there was in the town, and excitement ran high. Business was practically suspended for the afternoon and everybody went to the ball ground to see the great contest.
"One-third of the home nine was composed of the Ansons. The old man played first base, one son played third and his other son' guarded second base. And I assure you they made a formidable Infield.
"Before the first inning was over Anson pere almost scared me senseless. I was pitching and the old man was the first man to face me. The ball was new and rather hard to handle. The first ball delivered went dangerously close to Pa Anson's head. He dodged and then gave me a look which sent the blood to my heart In a rush. The look unnerved me. for the second ball pitched hit him with a 'dull, sickening thud' In the vicinity of the short ribs.
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