ranged; and I had the
gratification of being present at Mr. Crobble's inauguration.

It was a broiling day, and there was a full field; but he conducted
himself manfully, notwithstanding the jokes of the club. He batted
exceedingly well, "considering," as Mr. Wallis remarked; but as for the
"runs," he was completely at fault.

He only attempted it once; but before he had advanced a yard or two, the
ball was caught; and the agile player, striking the wicket with ease,
exclaimed, amid the laughter of the spectators--"Out! so don't fatigue
yourself, I beg, sir."

And so the match was concluded, amid cheers and shouting, in which the
rotund, good-natured novice joined most heartily.

CHAPTER VIII.--The Hunter.

"Hunting may be sport, says I, but I'm blest if its pleasure."

Two days after the cricket-match, Mr. Crobble paid a visit to my master.

"Well, old fellow, d___ me me, if you ain't a trump--how's your wind?"
--kindly enquired Mr. Timmis.

"Vastly better, thank'ye; how's Wallis and the other fellows?--prime
sport that cricketing."

"Yes; but, I say, you'll never have 'a run' of luck, if you stick to the
wicket so."

"True; but I made a hit or two, you must allow," replied Mr. Crobble;
"though I'm afraid I'm a sorry member."

"A member, indeed!--no, no; you're the body, and we're the--members,"
replied Mr. Timmis, laughing; "but, halloo! what's that patch on your
forehead--bin a fighting?"

"No; but I've been a hunting," said Mr. Crobble, "and this here's the
fruits--You know my gray?"

"The nag you swopp'd the bay roadster for with Tom Brown?"

"Him," answered Crobble. "Well, I took him to Hertfordshire Wednesday
last--"

"He took you, you mean."

"Well, what's the odds?"

"The odds, why, in your favour, to be sure, as I dare say the horse can
witness."

"Well, howsomever, there was a good field--and off we went. The level
country was all prime; but he took a hedge, and nearly julked all the
life out o' me. I lost my stirrup, and should have lost my seat, had'nt
I clutched his mane--"

"And kept your seat by main force?"

"Very good."

"Well, away we went, like Johnny Gilpin. Hunting may be sport, says I,
but I'm blest if its pleasure. This infernal horse was always fond of
shying, and now he's going to shy me off; and, ecod! no sooner said than
done. Over his head I go, like a rocket."

"Like a foot-ball, you mean," interrupted Mr. Timmis.

"And, as luck would have it,