WHEN WE ALMOST SAWETH THE YANKEES OF NEW YORK BECOME REGULAR KIND OF GUYS

T' was almost a week-end of joy and frolic when the hated gladiators of New York town came close to losing three out of four to their country brethren from the countryside of Ohio, the Cleveland bunch who came neigh to bursting their buttons when their pent up offensiveness launched Spaldings into the sky and out of the arena time after time. The royal enclosure where sitteth George the most royal of all baseballdoms royals was in peril of oral overloads from the royaldom his self when his majestic jesters and others who hold together the dominion were not forthcoming with logical oration about how all the taxes gathered from the realm's most needy could not be relied upon to discover and enlist magical launchers of the white sheres at a speed and exotic revolutions to blind the rural cousins from the land by Lake Erie.

But rightness and justice are not always served equally between the city bought for 24 dollars and some shiny beads and the land of rust and dwindling hopes. And this patch of history is like much of history past with the Indians of Ohio returning to their wigwams in the village founded by Mr. Cleveland, once again having come close to humbling the striped suited, but alas returning to a less affluent dominion to dream of what might have been. Two contests for the New Yorkers and two contests for the Clevelanders of Ohio.