that fell down the least and had the least mud on - but even then a decision would have been hard.  The game had little interest for us rather than amusement.  The east-ends won in the end I believe.
     Meanwhile we wandered over the field, talking with different fellows and watching work of preparation for the afternoon.  The din of shouting, the bright sunshine, the cool brisk wind, all gave us a keen feeling of enjoyment, that only a warm in November day can give.
    We wandered finally to the eastern part of the field, and happened to overhear a fragment of a conversation going on between “Pool” Brown and “Monk” Johnson, both colored.  I am laughing now as I write in it.