ROMANCE AND REALITY. BY GEORGE J. O. ALLMANN. Sweet are the charms of a rural life, What joy to banish care away, And all its fevered pains, E'en though it be for one short day- How sweet to muse by running brooks, To learn from them the lore no books How sweet among the woods to rove, To track the game through copse and grove Lit by the moon just risen- You lose your And taken are to prison! How sweet to tread the heather braes With footstep firm and free! To linger where the Fancy strays, Mid Nature's scenery! To watch the towering poplars wave, Or lie beneath the beeches, And bless the bounteous Hand which gave But zooks! I've torn my breeches! How sweet, when summer skies are blue, "A gipsying" to go, With friends, a merry laughing crew, - Cricket-The annual match at Westminster between the Town boys and King Scholars-Sports of the Greenwich pensioners-The one-legged players are stumped out by the one-armed veterans-Curious performance of a canine member of Lord's "The dog will have his day"-A visit to Jackson's sparringrooms-The late Marquis of Hertford-Byron: "The bard more fat than bard becomes"-Fête at Vauxhall-The Dean's Yard Magazine-Extraordinary duel in high life-Song: "Ready Rhino; or, the face of our King is the picture for me." As the spring approached, the fine, manly, and thoroughly English game of cricket commenced, and Kirkonnel and myself were chosen among the eleven of the town boys who, in a few weeks, were to contest for the palm of victory with an equal number of the King's scholars. The greatest excitement prevailed throughout the boarding-houses and college with respect to this annual trial of skill, and the utmost esprit de corps filled the breast of each youthful competitor. Every leisure moment was devoted to practice, and as much interest was excited amongst the old Westminsters as amongst those at that time on the books of the school. The morning at last arrived, and having mustered our forces in the playground (Tothill Fields) we proceeded to toss up for the first innings; we lost the toss, and a shout from the " tugmuttons" put us on our metal as two of our best men (?) went in. The batting and fielding during the first innings was extremely good, and our scores were nearly equal, the King's scholars being five ahead. Half-an-hour was now allowed for refreshments, and unfortunately for our side a troop of old Westminsters had insisted upon standing some champagne; the question was put to the vote whether we should reserve the sparkling liquid until the match was over, or quaff it on the moment. Influenced by the fatigue and heat of a long hard morning's work, the proposition for im mediate consumption was carried by a large majority, and Frank Alderson and the Hoaxer, who had assisted in keeping the ground from the incursion of the "skies" id est,"blackguards' butlers, and drew the well-waxed and fastened corks. - "Fill the cup, and let it come, I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom," -now acted as spouted the stage-struck hero, as he filled our tumblers with Moet's best. The effect that was produced upon us, albeit we were as sober as judges, was fatal to our side, which were now to go in; the juice of the grape had so exhilarated our batsmen, that they hit right and left at every ball, and although in some instances they got some swipers," viz., three, four, and five runs, upon the whole they could not stand against the sharp bowling of their adversaries; with the fieldsmen the effect was different they stopped balls which in their sober senses they might have shrunk from; their legs seemed to have attained increased celerity and their arms renewed vigour, and so wonderful was their prowess that our eleven wickets went down (many from being run out, a few caught, and the rest bowled out) for only twenty-nine runs. The caps and gowns now went in, and the fumes of the champagne having entirely evaporated, their steady play soon produced them twenty-five runs, with only one wicket down. Our respective scores were now declared as follows Total. 79 Dinner was now announced in a large marquee erected for the purpose. After the usual loyal toasts were disposed of, "Success to Westminster,' "The Winners," "The Losers," "The Umpires,' were proposed, and done due honour to. Lots of speechifying took place, some bacchanalian songs were sung, a considerable quantity of old port was "drunk on the premises," as were many of those who imbibed it, and truth compels us to admit that headache and heart-burn wound up the festivities of this all-important day. While upon the subject of cricket, we cannot refrain from laying before our readers the account of two curious matches that came off during the period we were at Westminster, and which created considerable sensation at the time. The first was, according to the chroniclers of the day, for a thousand guineas, and took place July, 1811, at Montpellier Gardens, Walworth, between the one-armed and one-legged pensioners of Greenwich Hospital. The sport created much diversion, as several lost or broke their wooden walls. The following is the return of the mutilated match As soon as the umpires declared the match to be in favour of the "fewest hands," the winners drove off to Greenwich in a triumphal car, ornamented with flags, banners, and laurel leaves, laughing (we presume)" in their sleeves" at the discomfiture of their one-legged fraternity. The losers speedily followed them, and consoled themselves with splicing the main-brace" with prog and grog that had not undergone the scrutiny of the purser, and which left them (to follow out the nautical metaphor) "three sheets in the wind." 66 The other event took place in the month of August, 1813, when Lord Charles Kerr made a match with J. Cock, Esq., jun., to play a game of cricket-his lordship backing his servant, James Bridger, and his water spaniel "Drake," against Mr. Cock with Mr. Wetherell. The match, which was for 50 guineas a side, was played at Holt Pound cricketing ground, near Farnham, Surrey. The post assigned to Drake was that of fagging out for the ball, the only way indeed in which his services could be rendered available; but as he always caught it at the first bound, he proved himself quite as good a fieldsman as many a biped would have done. The following was the result of the game The way in Mr. Cock then turned "shy," and gave up the match. which the canine member of Lord's run Wetherell out was this: Wetherell hit the ball smartly for a run, but Drake played across the ball so much faster than the former expected, stopped it so well, and delivered it so quickly to his partner Bridger, that Wetherell's stumps went down without a run. In a former chapter I mentioned that through some of our Tothill Fields friends, Kirkonnel and myself had received tickets for Jackson's sparring rooms in Bond-street, and there we proceeded the first halfholiday after the cricket-match. It was about this period that the question of forming a society to be called "The Pugilistic Club" was first agitated, and upon the occasion I allude to, a large party of the élite of fashionable amateurs and a strong muster of "professionals" were assembled to discuss the rules and regulations that were to govern the P.C. Bill Gibbons, who was about to be appointed Commissary-General to the "Fancy," and who, to use his own phraseology, saw that " we were troubled with the shies," as we quietly sneaked, rather than walked, into the room, quickly approached us, and presented us to the owner of the rooms as two "oudacious young Westminster varmint, up to any lark, from a duck-hunt in the five-fields,' Chelsea, to a mill at Moulsey Hurst." Jackson was all kindness and urbanity, and pointed out to us some of the "lions" of the ring-Tom Crib, the Belchers', Oliver, Shaw the Life Guardsman, and the two blacks, Richmond and Molineux. After a few" sets to" between some of the first-rate men, Kirkonnel, who was one of our best fighters in Dean's Yard, put on the gloves with Jackson; and for the honour of Westminster I'm proud to record that his prowess drew down the warmest eulogiums from that respected man, and the distinguished amateurs and professionals present. "Well done, young one," said a portly looking man, with a countenance very like that of bluff Harry;" "I never saw a better judge of distance, a straighter or a quicker hitter; a few lessons from our friend Jackson will make you the champion of the light weights." Then slipping a couple of guineas into his hands, the noble lord (for it was the late Marquis of Hertford, at that time Lord Yarmouth) begged to be introduced to me, and asking kindly after my father, who was one of his earliest friends, he inquired into our Westminster life, and which I flatter myself I responded to in such a graphic style as to win "golden opinions" from him, for he presented me with a sum that made me for the moment a forty-shilling freeholder. He then promised Kirkonnel and myself tickets for the approaching fète that was shortly to take place at Vauxhall, in celebration of the battle at Vittoria. During the afternoon, and as the rooms were thinning, a young man about five-and-twenty years of age made his appearance; there was something so striking in his look, so intellectual in his countenance, and so thorough-bred in his manner, that we were all anxiety to know who the new comer was. In height he was about five feet eight inches and a half; his light grey eyes were full of expression, and, as I shortly witnessed, could well pourtray joy, sadness, anger, and rage; his mouth and chin were exquisitely fine, his head and ears small, with a high narrow forehead; his fine dark brown curls contrasted well with his colourless complexion; his teeth were pearly white. "Come, Jack," said the young pupil; 66 we must have a set-to today. I have not yet recovered my yesterday's dinner and the party of purple I had at the Blue authoress." You look rather jaded, my lord," responded the corporeal pastor. Up till past two at Cribb's," continued the new comer; "Tom was facetious, but somewhat prolix. I promised Huntley to support him in the chair, then at work with those awful rhymes till matin bells— 'Company, villanous company hath been the spoil of me.' But where are the gloves?" "Here my lord," responded the instructor. As they were handed to him, and as his lordship moved across the room, we could not fail to remark that he laboured under a slight lameness, which he tried to conceal; the look of scornful rage which he gave us as he fancied we remarked this deformity, was instantaneously exchanged for the most kind and winning smile, when he heard Kirkonnel ask me, sotto voce, "whether I had ever seen so handsome a face or so aristocratic a hand." Who in this impetuous aspirant for fistic honours, who in this modern Corinthian, could have recognized that noble bard, that poet of the passions, who a few weeks before had published the "Giaour," a poem which entirely sustained the impression created by the two first cantos of "Childe Harold," and which fully merited the eulogiums passed upon it by the critic?" The thirty-five lines beginning He who hath bent him o'er the dead,' are so beautiful, so original, and so utterly beyond the reach of any one whose poetical genius was not very decided and very rich, that they alone were sufficient to secure celebrity to this poem.' It was at this period that the internal tempest, the deep passion, sometimes buried, and sometimes blazing from some incidental touch-the intensity of agonizing reflection which distinguished Byron from other writers-now began to display themselves." Who that saw the gay and buoyant |