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A Cricket Story by Horace Bleackley.


In the days when Alfred Mynn and Fuller Pilch were toddling about in short frocks, the wife of an honest farmer named Wood gave birth to twin sons. From their earliest infancy the brothers were marvellously alike, and as they grew up their similarity of countenance caused the village schoolmaster to dub them the Two Dromios. This nickname, however, did not stick to them. The elder—by five minutes—very soon displayed wonderful skill at cricket, and because of his early success as a batsman he began to be called Notchy, while his twin-brother was never known by any other than the derivative of his Christian name, Richard.

As soon as Notchy reached man’s estate he began to grow ambitious, and longed to earn a reputation in the world of cricket. This fact coming to the ears of the lord of the manor, young Earl Jeffry, a keen sportsman with a peculiar reputation, he secured the young man an appointment with the famous club at Hamble Green, in Kent.

His brother Dicky, on the contrary, stuck like a leech to the little homestead.

Notchy, being a youth of remarkable talent at the game he loved, prospered in his new career, and very soon had earned a considerable reputation as a professional cricketer.

His fame was soon wafted from the garden of England to his northern home, and his native village became exceedingly proud of his reputation. Above all others Dicky Wood was most delighted at his brother’s success, and followed eagerly all his achievements described in the newspapers that were sent to him from the south. The simple yeoman had only one weak spot in his honest nature. His vanity aspired to emulate Notchy’s prowess at cricket! His duty to his farm left him little leisure, but all his spare moments were devoted to assiduous practice. Alas, his brother’s talent was denied him, and he was the only one who could not realise that he was a hopeless duffer.

One fine summer’s evening, about nine years after his brother’s departure from home, Dicky Wood was sitting in the little porch in front of his tiny cottage, gloating over one of Notchy’s rare epistles. This is how it ran:—

Dere Dick,—May this find you well as it leeves me, and my lovin respects to mother. I plaid at Canterbury last week, and we won the choice of the first hand. There were over 700 balls bowled against us, and we plaid near the whole day. Our score was 250 notches and I got the longest hands, which was 72. We won easy, for Mr. Mynn pitched them his fastest, and they could not get in at them at all. After the match my Lord Bumper called me up and gave me a purse of five guineas, as he had won heavy over my hands. His lordship said I cut them at the point of my bat better nor any player, which was true as image many notches by setting myself up to that stroke.

“Some young bloods have backed Hamble Green in a match against Sampley club for 500 guineas to be plaid next week. With kind love to mother and all true friends who ask about me.

Your faithful Brother.”

Copyright, 1901, in the United States of America, by Horace Bleackley.