And now, a word from our sponsor

In England, where there are the most immoderate eaters and gourmands of the world and where the most indigestible edibles are indulged -- such as plum pudding and veal pies at night -- dyspepsia is almost unknown. Englishmen laugh at the feeble and debilitated stomachs of Americans, and any American who has traveled in England will tell how he was ridiculed at the mention of dyspepsia. Their exemption from disease of this kind is due entirely to the stimulants they drink with their meals.

But a ballooning number of U.S. Americans have begun to share the good fortune of their Englishmen brothers, appreciating the fine medicinal and healthy effects of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey. To hear more, let us turn away from those Madison Avenue pitchman and hear directly from those whose dyspepsia and general stomach ailments have been cured. Indeed, we open the Full Circuit Clout forum to the real men and women whose lives have been turned to-wards the brightness thanks to Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey.

DUFFY'S -- FOR WHEN YOU ARE NOT LOOKING WELL!'

We begin with a tale of bravery, and a tale of heroism cut short by dyspepsia of the stomach. The cure? Why Duffy's, of course!

Mr. Hiram Cronk, of Ava, N.Y., who was mentioned in General Orders for bravery at the Battle of Sackett's Harbor, states that he is kept strong and well by Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey.

"Thanks to Duffy's, I am able to be out every day and take quite extended tramps in the severest weather."

On being interviewed, Mr. Cronk said: “For many years Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey has been my only medicine. I take a dessertspoonful of the tonic three times a day with my meals, and when I go to bed. Although we have severe weather where I live, I am able to be out every day, and I take quite extended tramps. I am thankful to Duffy's, for it gives me a good appetite and keeps me strong and well in my old age.”

Mr. Cronk is famous the country over for being the sole survivor of the war of 1812. He served in the 157th Regiment Volunteers; fought with distinction throughout the war of 1812, and at the Battle of Sackett's Harbor was mentioned in general orders for bravery. Mrs. Sarah A. Rowley, his daughter, writes that in spite of the fact that the grand old man is 105 years old, he is keen in mind and rugged in health, thanks to Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey.

Now to the letter-bag, wherein regular readers of Full Circuit Clout have regaled us with success stories regarding their use of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey:

J.F. Pennington, 12 North 7th St., Philadelphia, Penn
GENTLEMEN: I purchased two bottles of your Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey, which, together with the formula I took according to directions my temperance friends held up their hands in holy horror, but I determined to test the merits of the recipe and it affords me infinite pleasure to state that I derived incalculable benefit from the use of the whiskey. To use a vulgar expression, it “knocked the dyspepsia higher than a kite” and gave me renewed strength. I will continue the use of the whiskey indefinitely.

Mr. Fred W. Wild Gen. Ambrose Burnside, 35 North Gay St., Barrington, R.I.
GENTLEMEN: For ten years my wife suffered with acute dyspepsia or neuralgia of the stomach. Different remedies were used without effect. Her sufferings were intense and relief could only be obtained by hypodermic injections of morphine. Hearing of your Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey she commenced its use and so steadily improved she has no use for it now. While suffering, she visited a place where she could not get it, and though she procured the best of other whiskies, she could not use it. I know of nothing equal to yours for stomach affections.

Mr. J. Mitchell Webb, 621 Market St., Wilmington, Del.GENTLEMEN: Your Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey is the best medicine in the world, and has done my poor weak system more good than anything ever used. In fact, it has made me able to attend to my business, which I could not do before I commenced its use. I have gained wonderfully in the flesh.

Mr. George H. Bluhm, Pontiac, Ill.GENTLEMEN: I was taken with severe hemorrhages of the lungs and have been retired to my bed. Your formula with Duffy’s Pure Malt Whiskey, I do not hesitate to say, has accomplished even more than you stated. Dyspepsia entirely disappeared and I have gained 38 pounds in six weeks’ use. I cheerfully recommend it to all parties suffering from indigestion.

Invasion of the Crooners!

Although I know our base ball heroes need a restorative pause from hurling and swatting during the long season, I wish the tycoons and robber-barons who own the squads would enjoy a similar respite.

But no! These bean-counters see a gap in the ball-playing schedule as an opportunity to invite any musical revue, burlesque show or other “entertainment” spectacle into our hallowed ball-parks, all in the name of putting a few more nickels in their vest pockets.

Last night, noted “rag time” artist "Wee Willie" Joel took his position in center-field of the Metropolitans’ coliseum, wielding a piano instead of a glove. His bar-room ballads filled the air that should instead be ringing with hoots and huzzahs from loyal rooters. Worse, next month the Tin Pan Ally crooner Neil “Sparkles” Diamond will be warbling his ditties on the fine turf of the park by the Fens.

Now, I have no beef against a cheerful tune or even a sing-along amongst gentlemen -- but I feel these activities are best confined to the taverns and men’s clubs outside the ball-grounds. The diamond is a sacred polygon, laid out for gallant men in flannel to prove their skill in the ancient arts of stick and ball. (Not to mention the fact that these interloping canaries tend to attract an unseemly crowd of reefer-heads, tarts and delinquents.)

I’d rather the grandstands remain peopled with honorable rooters, upstanding ladies, and lads and lasses partaking of our noble past-time. Base ball can’t return quickly enough for my tastes.

A double-fisted hero, with talent to spare!

What a gentleman ball-player! The previously derided David John "J.D." Drew, he of the "Ol' Aches and Pains" moniker, has been such a breath of fresh mountain air for the Bostons this first half-season. Indeed, his play has been a tonic for the spirit, much like a nip of Duffy's Pure Malt Whiskey to cure dyspepsia.

But until last night, David John's heroics were largely sequestered in the minds and hearts of Boston's Rooters. Now, his name is known far and wide after his most-valuable play at the All-Star shenanigans at New York's Yankee Stadium -- a park so festooned with bunting during its final victory lap amongst the base-ball cognoscenti that it nearly collapsed under the weight of the gaily colored felts and cottons.

And not only did David John drive the pill into the cheering throngs late in the seventh chapter to make a "tie", but he also surrendered his ego to volunteer for hurling duty as the match wound its way into the wee hours before a victor was named. Alas, there was no need for David John's knuckler as Tampa's Scott "Church Mice" Kazmir twirled the final frame to bring in the victory for the American League ball-players.

Sideshow in the Stadium

Base-ball’s mid-season respite from match playing takes a turn toward the carnivalesque to-night, with the folly known as the Four-Ply-Drive Derby.

As an aficionado of the full-circuit clout, I confess mild interest in the festivities -- at least to a point. To follow the arc of a scalded pill from the crack of the ash up into the firmament and beyond the confines of the ball-yard is to witness a miracle of the physical sciences.

But removed from the other beauties of the game – twirling, glove-work and base-running – clouts become cause stripped of effect. To-night, there will be no “runs” put on the board, no “ties” broken with one mighty swing, no conclusive blasts in the final chapter to secure victory for our home-town boys.

Instead, the swat artists will stand in the batsman’s box and clobber slow hurl upon slow hurl, until they resemble less a ball-player than a Fiji mermaid or bearded lady wielding the lumber. I will gawk for a moment, but in time, my thoughts will drift toward a half-season of meaningful clouts yet to come.

The heroes enjoy summer

On a fine and sunny Sunday, assorted musings from your friend, Hurdy Chadwick:

• As we approach the midpoint of the season, the reigning base-ball champions must certainly be looking forward to a vacation away from the diamond. However, a full seven of the Boston Red Sox will be accompanying Manager Terrence "Terry" Francona to New York for the annual "All-Star" festivities. Rooters are indeed pleased to have such fine representation from their home town team.
• In the waning days of July, teams around the Major League of Base-Ball will be convening meetings amongst their brain trusts, no doubt sequestering the assembled minds at some lake-side retreat to mull the future of their squads. Will the Bostons commit to a "trade" of any of their diamond-minded heroes? Will the Olde Towne Team add to their already significant ranks? No-one knows, but rest assured that Hurdy and Stuffy will be watching!
• As I write, the wireless is tuned to the Sunday base-ball match between the Bostons and the Baltimores -- a match in which the Bostons have a two-run-to-nil advantage -- and the broadcasters recently noted that the upstarts from Tampa are losing to the Clevelanders by a score of five runs to two in the twilight chapters. Dare to dream, good Rooters, but if current trends continue, the heroic Bostons may again be atop the vaunted American League East category as the teams break for the respite of the Minmidsummer Classic.

Update: The Tampas have indeed dropped their match with the Clevelanders. As the Bostons continue battle with the Baltimores in the Fens, there is a "tie" at the tippity-top of the American League East division. Huzzah!

Second update: The Bostons have triumphed and take a one-half-game lead over the entirety of the American League East base-ball squads! Huzzah, indeed!

Thank you, Wonder!

No sooner had I wired over a dispatch decrying the lack of clouts from the local nine than Manuel "The Wonder" Ramirez answered with a tremendous four-ply drive deep into the New England summer night.

As the pill screamed across the sky, three Bostons completed their circuit of the diamond to "tie" the game at 5 points apiece. The Wonder had done it again!

To-day's match will be contested under the brutal mid-day sun, with Gen. Joshua P. Beckett assuming the hurling duties. All Rooters should report immediately to the ball-park or a local tavern (preferably those with the wireless) to hoot on the hometown squad while staying cool with a fine tankard of suds.

Bring back our Colossus

The recent epidemic of ineffectual swatting has worked my patience to its limits. “High-Pockets” Lugo stands at the dish with the countenance of a street urchin caught in the path of trolley car. Capt. Varitek swings as if underwater. And Coco “The Brawler” Crisp appears to be suffering ill effects from his recent tussle with half of the Tampas. How else to explain his inability to square ash to horsehide with any effect?

Even The Wonder is afflicted with some variation of the swat-sapping disease (despite knocking the pill for a deciding “run” last evening). That so many are failing so spectacularly at their batting duties makes us ache for the return of our Colossus -- the Mighty Ortiz, the one with the fists as big as hams.

Reports that he’s facing live hurlers again -- albeit in pre-match warm-up swatting -- are heartening. We can only hope his recovery continues apace, so he can bring his great and terrible clouting back to the diamond in time to help the Bostons capture another American League pennant.