Gladstone and Salisbury's rivalry's child's-play compared with the ditto of Sherwin and Shuter.
Plague upon Jupiter Pluvius! Why did he not hang aloof just a week or two longer?
Oh, don't talk to me of your turnips and things,—what are they to the question which team is the stronger?
Glorious season for Cricket all round, as is proved by the lots of Leviathan scoring,
And now, hang it all, at the very identical point when it comes to the pinch, it is pouring.
Cockshies all chance, every average crabs, this detestable deluge. Slow wickets and sticky.
Muck even the great Arthur Shrewsbury's play, and make Walter Read's chance of top-average dicky,
Arthur's two centuries plus sixty-seven, falls off to a pitiful seven-and-twenty,
And Barlow and Briggs have it all their own way; three "ducks" in one innings—of Notts men—seems plenty.
Look at poor Yorkshire again! Martin Hawke did his best to choose right, but caked wickets plus Lohmann,