merit.
Indeed, so great was the local fame of this young man that it produced a
sensation for miles around when it was announced that Don O'Rapley (such
was his name) was going to bowl. All the boys of the village where the
match was to take place were in a state of the utmost excitement to see
the Don. At times it was even suggested that he was unfairly "smugged
in" to play for a village to which he had no pretensions to belong. In
process of time the youth became a man, and by virtue of his cricket
reputation he obtained a post in the Court of Queen's Bench. The
gentleman whom I have referred to as looking with such austerity at Mr.
Bumpkin is that very Don O'Rapley; the requirements of a large family
necessitated his abandonment of a profession which, although more to his
taste, was not sufficiently remunerative to admit of his indulging it
after the birth of his sixth child. But it was certain that he never
lost his love for the relinquished pursuit, as was manifest from his
habit when alone of frequently going through a kind of dumb motion with
his arm as if he were delivering one of his celebrated "twisters." He
had even been seen in a quiet corner of the Court to go through the same
performance in a somewhat modified form. He was once caught by the Judge
in the very act of delivering a ball, but found a ready apology in the
explanation that he had a touch of "rheumatiz" in his right shoulder.

Now I saw in my dream that Don O'Rapley was in earnest conversation with
Horatio, and it was clear Mr. Bumpkin was the subject of it, from the
very marked manner in which the Don and the youth turned occasionally to
look at him. It may be stated that Horatio was the nephew of Don
O'Rapley, and, perhaps, it was partly in consequence of this
relationship, and partly in consequence of what Horatio told him, that
the latter gentleman rose from his seat under the witness-box and came
towards Mr. Bumpkin, shouting as he did so in a very solemn and prolonged
tone, "Si-lence!"

Mr. Bumpkin saw him, and, conscious that he was innocent this time of any
offence for which he could be committed, stood his ground with a bold
front, and firmly held his white beaver with both hands. O'Rapley
contemplated him for a few minutes with an almost affectionate interest.
Bumpkin felt much as a pigeon would under the gaze of an admiring owl.

At last O'Rapley spoke:--

"Why, it's never Mr. Bumpkin, is it?"

"It be a good imitation, si