ed above. Therein is shown the
complete performances with the bat of two renowned cricketers; for, alas
I in once more trying to play up to the form of Dumkins, I was bowled
"slick" the very next ball, "as hath been said or sung."

There was much good-natured chaff flying about during the match, but no
fighting and squabbling, save when a boundary hit was made, when the
batsman always shouted "Three runs," and the bowler "No, only one." The
scores were not high; but I remember that we won by three runs, that the
carpenter's son got a black eye, that we had tea in an old manor house
turned into an inn, and drove home in the glow of a glorious sunset, not
entirely displeased with our first experience of "prehistoric" cricket.

Some of the pleasantest matches we have ever taken part in have been
those at Bourton-on-the-Water. Owing to the very soft wicket which he
found on arriving, this place was once christened by a well-known
cricketer _Bourton-on-the-Bog_. Indeed, it is often a case of
Bourton-_under_-the-Water; but, in spite of a soft pitch, there is great
keenness and plenty of good-tempered rivalry about these matches.
Bourton is a truly delightful village. The Windrush, like the Coln at
Bibury, runs for some distance alongside of the village street.

The M.C.C., or "premier club"--as the sporting press delight to call the
famous institution at Lord's--generally get thoroughly well beaten by
the local club. For so small a place they certainly put a wonderfully
strong team into the field; on their own native "bog" they are fairly
invincible, though we fancy on the hard-baked clay at Lord's their
bowlers would lose a little of their cunning.

In the luncheon tent at Bourton there are usually more wasps than are
ever seen gathered together in one place; they come in thousands from
their nests in the banks of the Windrush.

If you are playing a match there, it is advisable to tuck your trousers
into your socks when you sit down to luncheon. This, together with the
fact that the tent has been known to blow down in the middle of
luncheon, makes these matches very lively and amusing. What more lively
scene could be imagined than a large tent with twenty-two cricketers and
a few hundred wasps hard at work eating and drinking; then, on the tent
suddenly collapsing, the said cricketers and the said wasps, mixed up
with chairs, tables, ham, beef, salad-dressing, and apple tart, and the
various ingredients of a cricket lunc