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Rh This telegram was positively sent by the man on whom everything depended, "Can't come; am summoned on a jury." The wretched captain retorted, "Rot, you are not a householder," but he had to fill the vacancy. Not long ago Mr. A. D. Whatman, wrote begging forgiveness, but the fact was, he was off fishing. As for the accident which keeps a man who is passing through town "laid up and unable to come on," it is nearly as ancient and as annoying to the manager as that hoary chestnut, "prevented by an illness in my family." However, these things will occur in the best-arranged teams.

There is a comfort and ease about country-house and minor cricket, which you do not get in the charmed circle of first-class matches. The goodhumoured chaff is most healthy, and certainly tends to prevent mannerisms, into which many engaged in prominent cricket find they are apt to drop. Also the search-light of publicity is conspicuous by its absence.

Next, I would like to quote a story which my old friend Mr. C. W. Alcock relates, and which, I fancy, he personally overheard on a tram: "No, Bill didn't get much out of his day's cricket. He had to pay eight bob for his railway fare, and lost 'is day's screw, and was fined a shilling for being late next morning, and 'e didn't get no wickets, and 'e missed four ketches, and 'e got a couple of beautiful blobs. He did feel sold, he did." If anybody observes that is what can be euphemistically