quette." However, as I recall the incident after this lapse of years, I see nothing in it to cause me to blush. If I violated the code of court etiquette, I must plead that I was not at court, but at an American ball game. If I sat in the presence of Royalty, it is certain that Royalty sat in mine. If I tapped the future King of Great Britain on the shoulder, it was nothing more offensive than a game of tag, for he had first slapped me on the leg. If British Royalty honored us by its presence, which I am willing to concede, we repaid it by a splendid exhibition of our National Game. No, I am not able to see wherein honors were not quite even.
It was at this game that the Prince of Wales wrote his oft incorrectly quoted critique on the game.
The New York Herald—or rather, the London edition of that paper—had presented each spectator upon entering the grounds with a card, containing several questions calculated to draw out a consensus of English opinion on the game of Base Ball. The reporter of this paper explained to the Prince in my presence the object of these cards and expressed the wish that the Prince would give his opinion. The reporter, pencil in hand, stood ready to jot down the replies of the Prince when the latter said:
"Give me a card."
He then hurriedly wrote something and handed the card over to me that I might see how he had answered the questions. As I recall them from memory, his words were briefly as follows:
"I consider Base Ball an excellent game; but Cricket a better one."
