NYREN'S BOOK[1]
By the Rev. John Mitford.
It was somewhere between the years 1770 and 1780, that a great and decisive improvement took place, and that cricket first began to assume that truly skilful and scientific character which it now possesses. The pretty and sequestered village of Hambledon, in Hants, was the nursery of the best players; the down of Broad Halfpenny the arena of their glory,—the Marathon ennobled by their victories, and sometimes enriched with their blood.[2] At that time the Duke of Dorset and Sir Horace Mann were the great patrons and promoters of the game. Great as many of them were, and deserving a more lasting fame than they have attained, the name of John Small shines out in pre-eminent lustre. Him followed Brett, the tremendous bowler, and Barber and Hogsflesh, whose bowling was also admirable,—they had a high delivery and certain lengths; and he must be a more than common batter who can stand long against such confounding perplexities. Tom Sueter had the eye of an eagle, and a giant's paw; and when he rushed in to meet the ball, his stroke was certain, decisive, and destructive. Off went the ball, as if fired from a gun; and woe to those opposed to him in the game! But we must hasten on.—These great men (for great they truly were!) have long been where sound of ball, or sight of bat, or shout of applauding friends, will never reach them again.
- ↑ A review of The Young Cricketer's Tutor in the Gentleman's Magazine, July and September, 1833. E. V. L.
- ↑ The blood of a cricketer is seldom, however, shed from any part of his body but his fingers; but the fingers of an old cricketer, so scarred, so bent, so shattered, so indented, so contorted, so venerable! are enough to bring tears of envy and emulation from any eye, we are acquainted with such a pair of hands, 'if hands they may be called, that shape have none.'
