way and another—but could make no use of
the catapult, except to sit in it, and my
youngest child had convulsions, because,
she sobbed, Pa looked so like that dreadful
diver who lived in the pond at the
Polytechnic.

I issued all the circulars, and signed myself
the obedient servant of two hundred and
forty-six strange gentlemen. I set my
gardener and my coachman to roll out the cricket-
ground. I tasted the bad sherry of the three
Nettleton wine-merchants, and made two of
them my enemies for life. My advertisements
for a bowler were answered by a host of
youths, with immense professions and very
limited employment; some were from Lord's,
some from the Oval, "the Maribun know'd
him well enough," averred one young gentleman;
another—with a great hollow in his
hand from constant practice—affirmed, that
"if I wanted hart, there I had it, and no
mistake;" by which he meant that Art was
enshrined in his proper person—and him I
chose.

The first of May was as the poets love to
paint it: the white tents glittered in sunshine,
and the flags fluttered from their tops to a
gentle breeze; the wickets were pitched
upon the velvet sward, a fiddle and cornopean,
concealed in the shrubbery, welcomed
every arrival with See the Conquering Hero
Comes; and the president's heart beat high
with the sense of his position. I was attired
in my full diving-dress, over the Nettleton
uniform, and I held a bat in my right hand.
The sides were chosen, and the game began;
the carriages of the nobility and gentry formed
a brilliant circle round the ground; a flying
ball, struck by a hand more skilful than
common, gave their situation the least touch
of peril to enhance it. I myself was placed
at one of the wickets, and my new bowler
was placed opposite to me; he and I had
practised together for a day or two, and he
knew the balls I liked. I sent the sixth out
to the left with a great bang, to the
admiration of all but Grogram—who is a person
of saturnine disposition—and got three
runs; alas! the unprofessional Wilkins—
the swiftest round-hand in the club—then
inherited the mission of my destruction by
bowling to me; the whizz of his balls
absolutely took away my breath, and, if they had
struck me, would doubtless have taken away
my legs. But I placed the bat resolutely
in the earth, and cowered behind it as well
as I could manage. At last, after a warning
cry of Play!—about as inappropriate a name
as he could have called it—a tornado seemed
to sweep past me, followed by a smack as of
the resistance of flesh, and the wicket-keeper
ejaculated "Out!" to my infinite joy.

Then came the happy time of cricket.
The danger of the thing being over for that
whole innings, you have nothing to do but
to lie on the ground with a cigar, and
explain how you had intended to have
caught that ball, and hit it between long
field off and cover point; when you holloa
out, "Butter-fingers! " and "Wide! "; and
"Run it out! " My happiness, however, was
but of short duration; the new bowler
delivered his deadly weapon against the rest
in a manner he had known better than to
practise upon me. Wilkins, too, seemed to
derive new strength from every bail he
struck towards the sky, and reaped the air
with that tremendous arm of his more
terribly than ever. In an hour and twenty
minutes, we were fagging out on our side.
The president had his choice of places; and,
having observed that the wicket-keepers had
either stopped the balls, or much diminished,
their velocity before they arrived at longstop,
I declared for that happy post. Alas!
this was the case no longer. Swift as
thought, and infinitely more substantial, the
balls rushed with unabated fury beside me;
hardly, by leaping into the air, and stretching
my legs very wide apart, could I escape
the fearful concussion. "Stop 'em! Stop
'em!" screamed the fielders. "Why the
deuce don't he stop 'em?" bawled old Grogram,
indignantly. So I waited my opportunity,
watching, hat in hand, till one came
slower than usual; and then I pounced upon
him from behind, as a boy does on a butterfly.
The crown of my hat was carried away,
indeed, but the missile could not force its
way through my person, and I threw it up to
the man that hallo'd for it most in triumph;
but my reputation as a cricketer was gone for
ever.

At dinner I was comparatively successful.
Lord Wapshaw was on my right; Sir Chuffin
Stumps on my left; two long lines of gentlemen
in flannels were terminated,
perspectively, by Grogram, opposite; the
archdeacon said grace; my new bowler assisted
in waiting at table; and everything was
upon the most gorgeous scale. Presently,
however, the rain came down in torrents,
and, in spite of the patent imperviousness of
the tent, as vouched for by the vice-president,
some umbrellas had to be borrowed from the
hall (which were never returned). After
dinner, there was a friend of his lordship to
be ballotted for, and I distributed the little
balls, as directed, and sent round the box.
The rule of exclusion was one black ball in
ten. There were four black balls to thirty
white balls, and I had to publish the fact to
all present.

"My friend black-balled, sir?" said the
irascible peer. "Impossible! Did you do
it?—did you?—did you?" he asked of
everybody sucessively, amidst roars of
laughter at his utter want of appreciation of
the fundamental end and aim of the institution
of vote by ballot. "There must be
some mistake, sir," said he, when they had
each and all declined to satisfy such an
extraordinary enquiry. "Mr. Blathers, try them
again."