der to have water handy for keeping
the turf cool and green. What better receptacle for water could they
have found than a top-dressing of half an inch of loam or clay,
retaining as it does every drop of moisture that falls in the shape of
dew or rain, instead of allowing it to percolate through like a sieve,
as is the case with an ordinary sandy soil? Yet this clay dressing,
while retaining water, becomes hard, firm, and as level as a billiard
table on the timely application of the roller.

Those who look after cricket grounds and the like have seldom any
acquaintance with the constitution of soils; they are apt to treat all,
whether sand, light loam, strong loam, heavy clay, or even peat, in
exactly the same way, instead of recollecting that, as in agriculture, a
judicious combination will alone give us that _ideal loam_ which
produces the best turf, and the best soil for every purpose. I am quite
convinced that our farmers do not realise how much worthless light land
may be improved by a dressing of clay or loam. Such dressings are
expensive without a doubt, but the amelioration of the soil is so marked
that in favourable localities the process ought to pay in the long run.

Turning to cricket in general, perhaps the modern game, as played on a
good wicket, is in every respect, save one, perfection. If only
something could be done to curtail the length of matches, and rid us of
that awful nuisance the poking, time-wasting batsman, there would be
little improvement possible.

"All the world's a stage," and even at cricket the analogy holds good.
Thus Shakespeare:

"As in a theatre the eyes of men,
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious."

So also one may say of some dull and lifeless cricketer who, after the
famous Gloucestershire hitter has made things merry for spectators and
scouts alike, "enters next":

"As in a cricket field the eyes of men,
After a well-_Graced_ player leaves the _sticks_,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his _batting_ to be tedious."

On the other hand, if we sow the wild oats of cricket--in other words,
if we risk everything for the fleeting satisfaction of a blind
"slog"--we shall be bowled, stumped, or caught out for a moral
certainty. It is only a matter of time.

Perhaps the addition of another stump might help towards the very
desirable en