observed one of the fieldsmen, and in memorial was written this rhyme:—
Little Plum Warner stood in a corner,
Thinking he'd like to bowl.
The captain said, "Hum,
I will put on Plum,
He may get me out of this hole."
But sad to relate, he did not.
Captain Trevor, the popular "Dux," used to tell a cheery story about the demoralising effect of first-class cricket. Mr. A. S. Archer had been a big scorer for the Incogs; then he went with Lord Hawke's team to the Cape, and on his return had changed his style, and could score no more. Captain Trevor plucked up courage enough to suggest he should forget that he had ever "figured in averages," and should play in the old way.
"You want the golf shot?"
"If you please."
"And the tennis scoop towards third man?"
"Certainly."
"And a pull?"
"Three in each over."
"Right."
He went to the wicket and made ninety without a chance that was accepted.
Any one who has much to do with getting up matches can tell eloquent tales about being chucked. Perhaps nobody quite appreciates the force of the parable in which they all with one accord began to make excuse, until he is running a cricket week.
