A letter sent into the Hamilton Advertiser in May 1892.
“Sir,— Tired of reading on Sunday afternoon last, I, at the advice of my landlady, prepared to go to worship. On the way, a ludicrous scene almost made me forget my sacred errand. “
“On the Blantyre pavement, beside a richly-painted public-house, were nine boys playing football. Church-goers were evading the ball that Sunday and the kicks as best they could, but I thought discretion the better part of valour, so I took the middle of the road. “
“While looking on, a middle-aged woman, Bible in hand, came along the sidewalk. The ball was going fast and furious, and came in contact with the back part of her bonnet. The catastrophe created a laugh, and on the lady discovering that her plait of bought hair was dangling over her back, she wheeled round and retraced her steps to find her clasp.”
“The next encounter was with a pompous old fellow with a brown overcoat, and a huge umbrella under his arm. I guessed at once he was a deacon. This gentleman walked up as if regardless of danger, when suddenly he was compelled to “have-to” by a kick meant for the ball, but which landed on his knee. The old fellow tore and swore, and blamed the whole thing upon the burgh promoters for not carrying through their scheme of law and order; and finally wound up by remarking that, if it had not been his day at the plate, he should have waited and thrashed the whole lot of them.”
“He hobbled off, apparently not in the best frame of mind to attend to such duties. I shall be obliged to you, Mr Editor, to put this in print. An Old Batcher.“
