ing of the heart when the cup is drained to the dregs, and pleasures cease to please.
"Nec lusisse pudet sed non incidere ludum."
Still field-sports, in their proper season, are Nature's kind provision to smooth the frown from the brow, to allay "life's fitful fever," to—
"Raze out the written troubles of the brain.
And by some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom from that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart."
And words are these, not a whit too strong for those who live laborious days, in this high-pressure generation. And, who does not feel his daily burthen lightened, while enjoying, pratorum viva voluptas, the joyous spirits and good fellowship of the cricket-field, those sunny hours when "the valleys laugh and sing," and, between the greensward beneath and the blue sky above, you hear a hum of happy myriads enjoying their brief span too!
Who can describe that tumult of the breast, described by Æschylus,
νεαρὸς μυελὸς στέρνων
ἐντὸς ἀνάσσων
those yearning energies which find in this sport their genial exercise!
How generous and social is our enjoyment! Every happy moment,—the ball springing from the bat, the sharp catch sounding in the palm, long reach or sudden spring and quick return, the
