revenge on the gentleman who refused to go. He hit a lovely half-volley to square leg, which did not quite reach the boundary. My man was after it like a hare, and while they were trying to get the fourth run, he threw the wicket down full pitch from where he picked up the ball, at least 90 yards ofF, and with only one stump visible. A fluke, of course, but when I complimented him afterwards on his brilliant performance, which practically won us the match, he simply said, "Oh! that's nothing, sir; I was always a bit of a slinger"!
Our great annual event is, of course, the Married V. Single match, which takes place on the last Saturday of the season. In the old days, when we played on the Common, this was the occasion of what one might almost describe as a village orgie. Men turned up from everywhere, who never honoured the club with their patronage at other times, some even dressed, most appropriately, as clowns, and the cricket was distinctly of the "Dan Leno at the Oval" variety. Well, well, Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis. It was doubtless very amusing, but there were objections, latterly even objectors (whether of the conscientious variety or not doesn't matter), and the present tea-tent is in every way preferable to its rival "down the road." So we play on our own field now, and get a very fair amount of amusement out of it, even without the clowns. I have tried for years to get up some sort of a representative married team before the day of the match, but it's no use. They are all too old, or too stifle, or too
