THE CRY OF THE CRICKETER
(In a Pluvial Autumn.)
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again before next May!
The driving shower and chilling raw gust
Are most inopportune in August.
Rain has a chance to reign, remember,
Till early summer from September.
Why come and spoil cricket's last pages,
Our wickets—and our averages?
LORD'S IN DANGER. THE M. C. C. GO OUT TO MEET THE ENEMY
["Sir Edward Watkin proposes to construct a railway passing through Lord's Cricket Ground.">[
Our Opening Match.—"I say, Bill, you've got that pad on the wrong leg." "Yus, I know. I thought as I were goin' in t' other end!"
"Cricketing Intelligence."—Sporting Old Parson (to professional player). "Why is a ball like that called a 'yorker,' sir?" Professional Player. "A 'yorker,' sir? Oh, when the ball's pitched right up to the block—-" Sporting Parson. "Yes, yes—I didn't ask you what a 'yorker' was"— (with dignity)—"I know that as well as you do. But why is it called a 'yorker'?" Professional Player. "Well, I can't say, sir. I don't know what else you could call it!">[