Whilst J. and A. Hide are a host in themselves; but good fortune this season has failed to pursue 'em.
Kent, with Lord Harris, the family of Hearnes, and Rashleigh, with credit should carry field matters on,
But this year they'll not be at top of the tree, 'spite the bowling of Wooton, the smiting of Patterson.
Leicester has got a good trundler in Pougher, but one bowler won't make a good (Cricket) summer,
Whilst Derbyshire's Chatterton, Cropper, and Ratcliff don't make her, at present, the new (Cricket) comer.
As for game Essex,—well, evergreen Green, who has done in his day some redoubtable cricket,
Will own he will not have a look in this year, e'en with Buxton, and Bishop, and Bryan, and Pickett.
No, we must still look to one of the four; and oh, what a lot hope that one will be Surrey,
Fancy the spirits of Griffith and Southerton—(chums of that "barn-door" whom no one could flurry,
Stout little Jupp)—must just now haunt the Oval, or hold ghostly confabulations at Mitcham,