“What good times I have had in country-house cricket, to be sure,” ought to be the observation of any one who has had much to do with such games. If not, there has been something wrong with the individual. So he is not you, gentle reader, and, if that is the test, most certainly he is not me. All the same, I have not enjoyed the prime of country-house cricket. That must be a tradition among my seniors. Don’t you know the type of jolly old buffer, aged anything between fifty-five and seventy, with a big voice, bigger presence, and cheery disposition, when the gout does not give him a twinge, who lights a cigar, pulls down his shirt-cuffs, and has a twinkle in his eye at the very mention of country-house cricket? Men of this type made country-house cricket a thing of gorgeous merriment. Possibly at college they had paid more attention to May Week than to Plato, and to Eights Week than to Smalls. But they played for their runs in life as keenly as they tried to make them at cricket, and if they are not on the roll of fame, their names are in letters of gold on the list of English gentlemen. And mark you, it’s no light thing to be a real English gentleman. A goodly number of those who call themselves such don’t behave as such, perhaps have no conception of the true decencies of that most honourable walk in life. But that’s another story, and my theme is cricket. Moreover, I am not an old buffer, and I am going to have my say in this chapter. So having patted the elder generation admiringly on the back, I shall confine myself to my own. Therefore I am compelled to repeat that, as far as I can judge, the palmy days of country-house cricket were before my time. I have had a rattling good experience myself, but each year I see some perceptible shortening in of the amount of this class of cricket. Not that there is not enough for anybody, in all conscience, so long as he is in the swim. But it is more difficult to get just the right men to play, and just the right places to play at. No one who ever met me would bring up any charge of pessimism. I am merely stating a fact for the benefit, say, of school-boys of to-day, who may not be able to get quite such a golden time in just the same way as I and scores of my contemporaries. [Illustration: _From a Picture by_ _John Collet._ _MISS WICKET AND MISS TRIGGER._ “Miss Trigger you see is an excellent shot. And Forty-five Notches Miss Wicket’s just got.” ]