“The game of cricket, Mr. Secretary and gentlemen, is of surpassing antiquity; but it is subject to those famous laws of evolution discovered by Mr. Darwin, and it has vastly changed for the better during the last half-century. We can hardly imagine that first-class cricket is capable of further development; yet we are wrong. It is. And though I may not be here to see it, I have no hesitation in saying that some of you collected here to-day may live to observe vast changes in this historic, manly, and essentially English pastime. “Much has already been done since the days of Captain Fellowes and Fuller Pilch to improve the national game; and though it is not possible to us of the Apollo Fire Office, owing to the many calls upon our time in this hive of industry, to acquire what you might consider perfection at what has been well called ‘the King of Games,’ still, we have already shown ourselves to be no mean foemen in the fifth or sixth-class cricket, which we practise so ably, as many a victory over our formidable antagonists in other insurance offices so clearly shows. “That it has been my great good fortune, Mr. Secretary and gentlemen, to advance our prosperity to the flood-tide of success will ever be a source of proud gratification to me and my family in days to come; and I have no hesitation in saying that, among my possessions, be they great or small, in after life, I shall cherish this bat as a jewel in my crown, so to say, and never relinquish it as long as my powers enable me to participate in our national pastime. “In conclusion, Mr. Secretary and—--” Here my Aunt Augusta interposed again—definitely and sternly: “Really—really—I do think it’s too long, my dear boy,” she said. “It’s awfully good and interesting, and flows beautifully, and if I was a clerk in your office I should love to hear you say it; but—but—--” “You miss the elocution and the pauses and effects,” I explained. “I’m merely _reading_ it now; but when I _deliver_ it, everything will be quite different.” “It may be so,” she said, “but I have a firm conviction that it is far too long for the occasion. You see, after the office hours are over, the men will all be wanting to hurry off to catch trains, and so on; and it would be a fearfully disappointing thing for you, in the midst of your speech, if people began going out. Suppose, as an extreme case, that the Secretary himself, who is a very important and busy man, _had_ to go before you had finished? Think what a cloud it would cast, and how you would feel.” Of course the vision of the Secretary slipping away, and the clerks stealing out one by one, was a very painful vision; and my mind seemed to take hold of this gloomy idea of Aunt Augusta’s and elaborate it, until I pictured a scene where I and my bat were finally left in the midst of the Board Room in solitary state, addressing the empty air!