the parish, whose methods are precisely the same. Scoring is out of the question. You may stop the ball as long as your patience lasts, but you can’t get it away, and wicket after wicket falls, as the pick of my village eleven try in vain to turn fast sneaks into slow half-volleys. I feel quite sorry for them when the end comes, and twelve promising young cricketers, with “Mr. Extras,” have all been dismissed for 76. Then our turn comes, and the umpire and I make a good start by putting on 30 for the first wicket. But it’s not all over yet! Six wickets fall for an additional 9 runs, and the audience begins to hold its breath. We have still eight or nine batsmen, but can they possibly make 5 runs apiece? We are soon put out of suspense. The groom goes in for hitting, knocks up 15 in a few minutes, which demoralises the field, the best bowler is taken off at the critical moment, and the rest is easy. We have had a most thrilling afternoon’s cricket, and no one is any the worse except the old wicket-keeper, who is so stiff he cannot come downstairs for two days. I feel I ought to apologise for appearing in such august company as this book affords, but it is our cheery editor’s doing, not mine. My enthusiasm for the subject is the only excuse I can offer, and that he has kindly accepted, so I need say no more. Only I shall always regret that no more capable pen than mine was found to do justice to such an inspiring theme as “Village Cricket.” [Illustration: _AN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CARICATURE._] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIII FOREIGN CRICKET By P. F. WARNER In this and the following chapters I shall endeavour to give some account of the many cricket tours in which I have been fortunate enough to take part, in the West Indies, the United States, Canada, Portugal, South Africa, New Zealand, and Australia. The days have long gone by since England was the only country in which the game flourished; for cricket is played, and played well, too, in the most remote corners of the British Empire. It has been my good luck to play cricket from Trinidad to Auckland, and from Buluwayo to Vancouver, so I hope there may be some interest in a record of the game under conditions widely different from those of Lord’s or Old Trafford—upon grounds that are within easy distances of volcanoes, and in towns that have since undergone siege and bombardment. In the course of my wanderings with bat and ball, I have covered nearly 80,000 miles by land and sea, and I have enjoyed every mile of my long journeyings, for the memories that one carries away from such tours as these are innumerable. May not one hope, too, that these touring teams are not altogether without value from the political side, for they must assuredly lead to a closer understanding and better appreciation of our kinsmen in Greater Britain.