bad in itself, but it is the ill-use that is made of it by betting above 10_l._ on it that is bad.’ To a humble fiver on the University match this court would have had no kind of objection to make. The history of betting at cricket is given by Mr. Pycroft in the ‘Cricket Field’ (chap. vi.). A most interesting chapter it is. The earliest laws of the game, or at least the earliest which have reached us, are of the year 1774. A committee of noblemen and gentlemen (including Sir Horace Mann, the Duke of Dorset, and Lord Tankerville) drew them up at the ‘Star and Garter’ in Pall Mall. ‘The pitching of the first wicket is to be determined by the toss of a piece of money.’ Does this mean that the sides tossed for which was to pitch the wicket? As Nyren shows, much turned on the pitching of the wicket. Lumpy (Stevens) ‘would invariably choose the ground where his balls would shoot.’[21] In the rules of 1774, the distance between the stumps is the same as at present. The crease is cut, not painted.[22] The stumps are twenty-two inches in height; there is only one bail, of six inches in length. ‘No ball,’ as far as crossing the crease goes, is just like ‘no ball’ to-day. Indeed, the game was essentially the game of to-day, except that if a ball were hit ‘the other player may place his body anywhere within the swing of his bat, so as to hinder the bowler from catching her, but he must neither strike at her nor touch her with his hands.’ At this moment of legislation, when the dim heroic age of cricket begins to broaden into the boundless day of history, Mr. James Love, comedian, appeared as the epic poet of the sport.[23] His quarto is dedicated to the Richmond Club, and is inspired ‘by a recollection of many Particulars at a time when the Game was cultivated with the utmost Assiduity, and patronised by the personal Appearance[24] and Management of some of the most capital People in the Kingdom.’ Mr. Love, in his enthusiasm, publishes an exhortation to Britain, to leave all meaner sports, and cultivate cricket only. Hail CRICKET, glorious, manly, _British_ game, First of all sports, be first alike in fame, sings Love, as he warms to his work. He denounces ‘puny Billiards,’ played by ‘Beaus, dressed in the quintessence of the fashion. The robust _Cricketer_ plays in his shirt, the Rev. Mr. W----d, particularly, appears almost naked.’ One line of Mr. Love’s, _Where fainting vice calls folly to her aid_, appears to him so excellent that he thinks it must be plagiarised, and, in a note, invites the learned reader to find out where he stole it from. To this a critic, Britannicus Severus, answers that ‘Gentlemen who have CRICKET in their heads cannot afford to pore over a parcel of musty Authors.’ Indeed, your cricketer is rarely a bookworm. ‘Leave the dissolving song, the baby dance, To soothe the slaves of Italy and France, and play up,’ cries this English bard.