the ranks of the holiday-seeking army as we thread the leafy defiles. Presently we emerge upon the unshaded road which, through the Jolimont estate—erstwhile a Viceregal residence—conducts us to the Melbourne cricket-ground.
Here, truly, is a sight for unaccustomed eyes. The great enclosure encircled by ornamental iron railings, larrikin proof, as I am informed, its level, close-shaved green a turf triumph and species of enlarged billiard-table as applied to cricket purposes. It is girdled by a ring of well-grown oaks and elms, through which the glossy-leaved Norfolk Island fig-trees, pushing their more lavish and intense foliage, communicate a southern tone.
I stand invested with the privileges of the pavilion, an imposing three-storeyed edifice, containing all necessary conveniences for the comfort of the athletes of the contest, as well as of their friends and well-wishers, who are in the proud position of members. The arrangements are liberal and comprehensive. Refreshment bars and luncheon tables, lavatories, dressing-rooms, billiards, and other palliatives are here provided, while on the western side are asphalted grounds, defended by wire netting, where the votaries of the racquet and tennis-ball display their skill. From the graduated tiers of seats in the lower or upper rooms, as well as from the roof itself, a perfect view of the game may be obtained; while on either side of the lawn, under cover or otherwise, full provision is made for the comfort of the gentler sex, always liberal in patronage of these popular contests. Around the remaining portions of the enclosure, and protected from the profanum vulgus by a high iron fence, accommodation is provided for the rank and file of the spectators, who, at a small cost, are admitted.
The hour is come and the man. Twelve o'clock has struck. New South Wales has won the toss. From the pavilion gate the manly form of Murdoch is seen to issue, cricket-armoured, with trusty bat in hand. He enters the arena amid general plaudits, followed by Alec Bannerman. Then forth file the eleven champions of Victoria, who spread themselves variously over the field. Palmer gives the ball a preliminary spin; Blackham stretches his limbs and stands ready and remorseless—a cricketer's fate—behind the wicket The first ball is catapulted—swift speeding, with dangerous break. Murdoch
