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 as his illustrious brother, whom he imitated, reverenced, and loved. In looking over carefully the list of matches for twenty years, we shall find no scores on the average at all approaching those of the elder Walker and Beldham; thus clearly evincing their superiority. But we must hasten on in our narrative, and reluctantly close the gates of history on these two unrivalled men.

Beldham's name appeared for the last time in a match played in Lord's Ground, on the 23rd July, 1821, of the Players of England against the Club. It was a match dignified by the fine play of Beagley, who gained 113 runs without being out. Beldham brought away his bat garlanded with the victories of forty years, with a score of 23, and his innings still unfinished. Tom Walker resigned the combat on the 25th of June, 1812, on Highdown Hill in Sussex. Others' names had appeared; his old compeers, the veterans by whose side he had so long frowned, stamped, and grunted, were gone; and it is a relief to us to see him disappear; how we should shudder to read the speeches of William Pitt, and Charles Fox, in answer to Messrs. Hume, Cobbett, and Faithfull: to see their names in conjunction, would be profanation; the same chamber could not hold them; they ought not to speak the same language. Madame Vestris, or Mrs. Honey (Honey sweeter than the sweetest produce of Narbonne), might as well be shut up in a cage with monkeys, as the son of Chatham stand by the side of Messrs. Evans and Warburton; or the old hero of Hambledon rank with the Ladbrokes and Lowthers of modern days.

Fennex, who (thank God!) is still alive, and who at 76 will bring down any wicket that is not carefully guarded, has been providentially preserved to show us