First, a tip of my boater to the Wobblies and other labor agitators who secured for us hard-working stiffs an extra day of leisure at the end of our summer holiday season. My lack of dispatches during the past week-end can be explained by my refreshing visit to a summer cottage colony here along the rocky coast of the 23rd state, where communication devices are limited to steamer-mail deliveries and carrier pigeon.
“Little Hands” Pedroia deserves a new moniker for his heroic exploits, for there is nothing “little” about his presence in a ball-park. His clouts can fell a forest of opponents! His leather can stop any hot smash or sizzling grasser ticketed for the right-side of the diamond! Even the demure Mrs. McInnes has noted the joy with which he whirls about the pitch, remarking to me that he plays like a youth-league urchin who has yet to realize his physical limitations -- nothing but arms and legs and fearless determination.
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