Mr. Punch's Book of Sport / The Humour of Cricket, Football, Tennis, Polo, Croquet, Hockey, Racing, &c

FAIR CRICKETERS

Cricketer.

["The growing favour with which athletic exercises are being regarded by those who are still 'the gentler sex,' is evidenced by the rapid adoption of cricket into the roll of those games which may be practised by ladies without the sober world being shocked. In the course of the past Summer there have been several matches."—Standard.]

You may play the game of Cricket, like the men well known to fame,

And be good "all round," like some folks at that fascinating game;

You may bowl like Mr. Spofforth at the Demon's deadly pace,

You may lead a team like Harris, and may bat like Doctor Grace;

But in vain your skill and prowess—can you dare to win the day,

Although hope may spring eternal, when the Ladies come to play?

They have conquered us at Croquet, though philosophers might scoff,

And the masculine intelligence was beaten by "two off."

As a vehicle for flirting we acknowledged all its charms,

And gay soldiers fell before it, although used to war's alarms;

But they held me-thinks their cricket-bats as doughty as their swords,

And they never dreamt of Ladies at the Oval or at Lord's.

Then we turned to Roller-skating, how the God of Love must wink

As he ponders o'er the havoc wrought on many a pleasant rink;

There the Ladies, as their wont is, held indubitable sway,

As they circled like the seagull in as fair and facile way;

And we yielded, though at Prince's woman held all hearts in thrall,

For we thought of our one Empire, that of Cricket—bat and ball.

Comes the era of Lawn Tennis, when the balls spin o'er the net,

What avail the "Renshaw smashes" when the Ladies win the "sett,"

And the boldest of all volleys will be found of little use

When the women gain "advantage," their opponents at the "deuce."

So we leave the lawn to Ladies, it were graceful there to yield;

But we thought that still at Cricket we were masters of the field.

Cricketer about to strike ball.

THE LAST BALL OF THE SEASON

Dog with cricket ball

Uninvited.—We had bowled out their best men, and should have won the match, but somebody came on the ground with a confounded hyÆna-coloured bull-terrier, who ran after the ball, and wouldn't give it up.

Two men dicussing bell pulls.

"Boots and Chambermaid."—Robin (the morning after the cricket supper). "What does this 'B' and 'C' mean, Dick?" Richard (with a headache). "O, brandy an' soda, of course. Ring 'em both, there's a good fellow!"

Vain the hope, for lo! the Ladies give poor Men no hour of peace.

Can we dare to "pop the question" when they front the "popping-crease"?

Though with "leg before the wicket" your short innings may be o'er,

Will the umpire be as truthful when it's "petticoat before"?

So lay down "the willow," batsmen, and, oh, bowler, leave the wicket,

Ye must yield once more to Woman, for the Ladies now play Cricket!

At the 'Varsity Cricket Match.—Newcomer (to Gent in front). If you would kindly move your head an eighth of an inch, I think that by standing on tip-toe I might be able, between the box-seat and body of that carriage, to ascertain the colour of long leg's cap.

Pudding it Plainly.—Why is a promising cricketer like flour and eggs?

Because he's calculated to make a good batter.

The most remarkable instance of a hybrid animal is the cricket-bat.

The Real "Triple Alliance."—A three-figure innings at cricket.

Cricketing scene.

Our Village Cricket Club.—We had thirty seconds left before the time for drawing stumps. Our two last men were in, and we wanted one run to tie and two to win. It was the most exciting finish on record.

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