chase, in which the middling classes, the poorer men, may vie inoffensively with the rich, and become personally known to each other. It is good for them both; for by their immediate communication, the rough edge of the one is softened and refined; while the other learns to believe that the middling and poorer classes are not absolutely automatons set up for the sole purpose of paying their rent, but that they are possessed of as quick feelings and sensibilities as the higher orders of society, and, if treated as man should treat his fellow-man, capable of all the best feelings of humanity. Let Dr. Styles turn his attention to the state of Ireland-let him listen to the powerful appeal made by some of the sons of that unhappy country, and he will learn-in spite of all the prizes in the world to induce him to believe the contrary— that the ruin of Ireland has been the absence of her landed gentry.

In an appendix to the pamphlet, Mr. Berkeley gives the following "historical fact, as a proof that the recollection of animal courage has been of service to man in the hour of danger:"

"In Lord Howe's celebrated action with the French fleet on the 1st of June 1794, the Marlborough, of 74 guns, was commanded by Captain the Hon. George Cranfield Berkeley. On board the ship was an old game-cock, a great favorite of the midshipmen and sailors, respected for his docility as well as on account of the number of battles in which the bird had proved victorious. When the ship was cleared for action, the live stock was ordered to be thrown overboard; but, at the humble request of the crew, the life of Old Tom, by which appellation the bird was distinguished, was saved, and, free'd from his coop, he was permitted to take his chance upon the deck. The Marlborough, as related by historians, and of late by Sir John Barrow, in his Life of Lord Howe, broke through the French line, engaging L'Impetueux of 78 and Le Mucius of 74 guns. From this superior force the good ship and her crew suffered dreadfully. Reduced to a wreck-her mainmast shot away, her men disabled, and her Captain severely wounded and carried below-the Marlborough lay between her dismasted opponents, almost without the power of continuing the fight. It was then, at this crisis of the action-when the Captain, fainting from loss of blood, had a second time been carried below-when the spirits of the men were failing, and they had in a great measure been driven from their guns-that a lull took place in the firing; the cannon ceased to roar, and the groans of the dying and the wounded, or even the falling of a rope, could be heard in the midst of that awful silence: at this moment the cloud of smoke was blown aside, and the old gamecock, who had all unnoticed escaped the human carnage, hopped up upon the stump of the mainmast, and, clapping his wings triumphantly, made the ship ring with the shrill note of victory. The effect was magical! Not a word was issued in command, but the homely summons reached the heart of every soul on board, and was answered by one long-continued cheer: the hale and scaithless rushed, the wounded dragged their limbs to quarters; while others in the cock-pit below, then under the hands of the surgeon, replied in shouts to their gallant mates above. There was not one of the crew that did not remember the indomitable courage of the bird that crowed undauntedly above the

horrors of the deck, or feel the impulse of his example: they again awoke the thunder of the British broadside, and in ten minutes from that time the Marlborough rode the sea a victorious wreck between her vanquished enemies."-We may add that a Silver Medal was struck by the orders of Admiral Berkeley: it was hung upon the neck of the old game-cock, who in the parks and around the princely halls of Goodwood passed the remainder of his downy days in honored safety.

NOTIONS ON CRICKET.

THE Cricket Season has come, and, at least as far as its great metropolitan field of action-Lord's-is concerned, has gone-"all its glories past," so briefly that one can scarcely believe they have existed. What a world of delight is contained in that miniature globe, a cricket ball! Well hit, it goes off from the bat like a thunder-bolt, far, far eclipsing in speed the swiftest steam-coach on a railway, that admirable invention of modern times, by which the people of this age enjoy the privilege of being able to journey from Pole to Pole (barring their necks are not broke by the way), without the slightest possible advantage either to body or mind! Repair to Lord's, say we, repair to Lord's, all you that can, to play; and those who cannot play, to learn; and those who could once do the trick, but whose joints are now stiff with age, to awake reminiscences of past delights: to Lord's, where the finest air within the same distance of St. Paul's is perhaps to be enjoyed. Whilst but too many of the fields and green spots around our Babylon, erst the retreat of shepherds and shepherdesses, are now the haunt of blackguards and blackguardesses, here still meet the élite of town and country! This far-famed ground, as well as the noble game to which it is dedicated, seems, however, destined to perpetual changes, which are not always improvements. The present season has brought more transformations. The tavern, dining-rooms, stables, &c. have been new-fronted and enlarged, and, I admit, certainly improved in appearance; but they encroach somewhat on the ground, never too spacious for its main purpose. In the rear of the Pavilion there has been made a thoroughfare for the spectators-another improvement, as it enables equestrians to pass behind instead of before the watchers of the game, although I am not quite certain whether these centaurs might not advantageously be altogether excluded from cricket grounds. There are somewhat too many benches allowed, which, with a little shed, apparently the habitation of some deer lately added to the "ground,' frequently obstruct the fieldsmen, and stop runs, being thus disadvantageous alike to in and out sides.

Whilst on this subject, I may perhaps be allowed to suggest that the regulations respecting runs allowed for balls touching certain boundaries in the ground should be made more generally understood. A mistake on this head might occasion the loss of a game. In a late Match (Sussex and Nottingham against England), Mr. Alfred Mynn, being in with another very excellent bat, who on that occasion played in more than one sense with his usual felicity, lost two runs by the

latter gentleman's supposing four to be allowed for a hit down to the house (which was not the case), and thus delaying to start till too late to secure more than half the number from a very bad hit, which floored a pot of beer on a table, and created much merriment, driving the crowd hither and thither like a shell in the midst of a military throng.

To return to my strictures.-A ground sacred to the noble game should not be profaned by ordinary cockney assemblages, and ballooning, and other work of the like nature, which can be carried on as well elsewhere. Sheep, moreover, are the only quadrupeds fit for cricket fields horses and pony-racing are better away. A cricket-ground should be flat as table beer, a name which our brewers most appropriately employ when they would describe the produce of the ne plus ultra of their art, as shewn in removing from malt liquors any harmful inequalities tending to any corresponding elevation of animal spirits *. The game itself might well be compared (had I leisure for the task) to other more generous liquors: exhilirating and exciting is it, like Champagne; beneficial, cordial, and fortifying to the system even as Port; or shall we liken it for its infinite variety to that nectareous compound of all that is exquisite in beverage, the old-fashioned punch, so graphically described by John Nyren in his Cricketers' Tutor.

I have on former occasions said that I do not think cricket generally improved by modern innovation, nor do the players, gentle or simple, strike me as quite so fine-looking and manly a race as they were from fifteen years ago upwards till we lose the names and description of its practitioners. But of all changes and degeneracy, real or supposed, was there ever anything like that of the weather? What shall we say of this season? What can have happened to that good old gentleman the Sun? Has he, like fools upon earth, cast off his good steeds, and ventured his drag on a railway on which the engines will not act? Time was, Mr. Editor, when he was wont to set the round table of the world in one universal grin; but now he remains lost in maudlin sadness, or, at the best, after a few wretched attempts at pleasantry, relapses again into abstraction and gloom. However, we deserve his absence for our worshipping of gas and other abominations, our neglect of nature, and our literally and metaphorically loving darkness rather than light. To speak in the plainest English, not only has the season been cloudy, but wet in the extreme: one of the worst of twelve successive bad ones, rain fell in torrents, but the players, to do them justice, paid or unpaid, went gamely and hardily through their work, scorning showers of any ordinary description, as if they had all belonged to that toughest sept of Highlanders, the clan MACINTOSH, whose hides, as I am credibly informed, have been destined by their patriotic Chief to protect the sensitive skins of effeminate Southrons-a process by the way, if true, quite as humane and considerate as the forced emigration of tens of thousands of their brethren (a most valuable race of men), to gratify the heartless avarice of other Lairds and Thanes.

Several of the older players of last year were absent this season from the scene of their most celebrated triumphs. Jem Broadbridge, for the first time, I should imagine, for these eighteen years at least

*I venture to surmise that the beer on the table, just mentioned as having been capsised by Mr. Mynn, was not of this description, although historians have not recorded the fact.

(with the exception perhaps of the season of 1826), was altogether a stranger at Lord's, perhaps even as a spectator. The senior Beazley, another excellent veteran, was not apparent. Marsden, the pride of Yorkshire, did not shew, although, with all his faults, by far the most effective, if not the most scientific batsman the North ever sent forth. Many of the best of the unpaid did not exhibit in the Great Matches, although several of them have played, and played well, on other occasions, and some, as Mr. Kynaston for instance, never so well. Several excellent players moreover, though still at work, and ably too, nearer home, were not brought up to town. I shall mention particularly Richard Mills, although no picked Eleven of England should exclude this man, a much better one altogether than ever the North produced. Of his brother George I do not think as highly, although he was loaded with unmerited obloquy some years ago on the ground of which I am speaking by some who should have known better. The wilful disturbance of players, new perhaps to the ground, by disagreeably calling to, or, what is as bad, talking loudly at them, is not only an unmanly, but, rightly considered, an unfair practice, and should be promptly checked, whatever may be the rank of the party indulging in it. I recollect Sir St. Vincent Cotton doing this in a very spirited manner a few years back, silencing for a time the annoying chaffing (for the practice is precisely that of the worst members of the boxing ring in its worst days when engaged as seconds) of a person who was then a disgrace to the Marylebone Club.

To return. Mr. C. Taylor, nominally, and perhaps actually a gentleman of Sussex, has worked himself up into the first rank of hitters. I am sorry, however, that it has never been my fortune to see him play on those occasions when he has added much to the score. In this respect he is something like Washington Irving's stout gentleman to me, though the comparison is not very close, for I have seen him play, though not his best; nor is he in himself a stout gentleman, but spare and thin, and barely of the middle height. He is a very young man, and might well pass for a year or two more juvenile than he really is. He has scarcely been so successful, however, this year as for the last season or two. Sewell, known a few years back only as a tolerable bowler and a very civil man, has improved surprisingly as a general player. His effective but steady hitting and good fielding have been on several occasions exceedingly conspicuous. In a grand Match already alluded to, he fairly carried off the honors of the day from all comers. The Match in question (Sussex and Notts England) was rather remarkable for incidents illustrating the fortuné of war. Clifford (one of the best men now in Kent) was so much hurt when in as to be obliged to retire from the field till the conclusion of the innings of his party-a circumstance not of very frequent occurrence, but no wonder, for the unlucky fellow had been hit three times in the leg on or near the same spot. A cricket-ball is not so deadly as a cannon-ball, nevertheless a flush hit from one of these missiles on the shin or ankle, when the projectile is impelled by a fast bowler or slashing hitter, is somewhat more than a joke. It comes home to every man's feelings, and abideth, it may be, some time in his memory. Clifford, however, though possibly like his namesake

celebrated by Shakspeare* he might "repent in bootless penitence" (for a pair of those useful appendages to the inferior man might have saved him), was not destined like the same worthy to "ask mercy and obtain no grace," for, as we have seen, he did obtain it, nor had he any reason to "devise excuses for (his) faults," for he is really a very good workman at this truly "gentle craft." The issue of this game need not have excited surprise, seeing that the best fielding, and all (it may be said) the hitting were on the side of England, of which party almost every man was also a bowler above mediocrity. They might have changed (if necessary) continually without mischief. The other side had, indeed, most excellent bowlers, but not in so great a variety. Wenman, when promising well, lost his wicket by rashness: he has since retrieved his fame, and has played this season as well if not better than ever. Pilch got very cleverly bowled out by Lilywhite: he has hardly been so lucky as we have seen him, but appears in excellent preservation, and as the upset musical coach-traveller congratulated himself that his G was safe, so may Fuller Pilch boast that he has not lost his native dialect from his sojourn in Kent.

The Match of the Gentlemen against the Players this year was, or would have been if it had been played out, as hollow a thing in favor of the professionals as it has almost always been. It never can be fairly a Match when the numbers and wickets are equal and the strength of each party are really brought into the field; nothing in such a case can give victory to the Gentlemen but mere accident, or an alternative which we will not suppose possible amongst the present generation of cricketers a generation of whom, if I am correct in thinking the paid portion inferior (as players) to their fathers, I still do not think the Gentlemen comparatively superior, although perhaps the very best man now in practice is amongst their number. I allude, as my readers will probably surmise, to Mr. Alfred Mynn. If, then, the Gentlemen have not become comparatively better than the paid players, how can they be positively so, since they never could approach them formerly?

In turning over the Gentleman's Magazine for 1788, I lately accidentally stumbled on a curious passage respecting the game under discussion, from which it appears that in the wardrobe account of Edward the Second (A. D. 1300) is this item :- "Domino Iohanni de Leek, capellano Domini Edwardi fil', ad creag' et alios ludos per rices, per manus proprias apud Westm. 10 die Aprilis 100s."

The writer who mentions this observes that the variation of creag from an old Saxon word signifying a game played with a crooked club and ball (formerly mentioned in your Magazine as probably the origin of our present sport) is not great, nor, considering the lapse of time, can cricket be thought a remarkable corruption of either. He therefore concludes it probable, of the sport of cricket, "that almost 500 years ago it was nearly so denominated, and that then it was a favorite pastime with the Prince of Wales. Nor is it unlikely but that John de Leek, His Highness's Chaplain, might be his playfellow†."

*Henry VI., Part III., Act 2.

Mr. Barrington has suggested, that in a Proclamation of Edward III., A. D. 1363, Cricket is alluded to under two Latin words, denoting the ball and bat sport, as also in a Statute of 17 Edward IV., A. D. 1577, by the pastime of handyn and handout, as the term of hands is still retained in that game.