"Well, it's a far cry from Hambledon to Downend," quoth Mr. PUNCH, pensively; "but even the gods of 'the Hambledon Pantheon,' as picturesque JOHN NYREN called them, might have admitted the Downend Doctor as their Jove. Or, adopting his other figure, have made him the King ARTHUR of their Round Table, _vice_ old RICHARD NYREN retired."
"I see you read what is worth reading," responded the Kentish Big 'Un. "DICK NYREN'S style was as sound and honest and brisk as the English ale he lauded,--'barleycorn, such as would put the soul of three butchers into one weaver.' But the great Gloucestershire gentleman is worthy to bend the bow of Ulysses."
"Or to wear the pads of ALFRED MYNN, which, I believe, were presented to him," said Mr. PUNCH, cordially.
"Ah! There is another and a bigger Presentation afoot, I understand, thanks largely to a truly Gracious Prince," returned "the monarch of hard hitters." "A knighthood? Well, that's as it may be! Quite deserved indeed; but a 'King' hardly needs the addition of the lesser honour, and indeed W. G. won his spurs on the tented field years and years agone. But a National Testimonial! Faith, the Briton who grudges a subscription to _that_ doesn't deserve to see a sixer run out, or drink a flagon of genuine Boniface at the 'Bat and Ball' on Broad Halfpenny. Only wish we old willow-wielders in the Elysian Fields could contribute each our obolus. By Castor and Pollux, here he comes!"
Broad, bronzed, black-bearded, bear-pawed, bell-mouthed, beaming, in loose-cut flannels and M. C. C. cap, the redoubtable Doctor entered. 'Twas a sight to see those two six-foot-odders shake hands! And to hear the talk of the Cricket Heroes of two generations----
"Hillo, Mr. PUNCH! Wake up, old man! Match over!"
It was the veritable voice of the Gloucester Giant. But where was the Pride of Kent? He came like a shadow in summer slumber, and so departed. But WILLIAM GILBERT was at least satisfactorily solid.
"Where are the Bats of yester year?" murmured the drowsy Sage.
"Oh, still scoring--some of 'em," said the practical smiter, cheerfully. "Keeping up a fair average, too."
"Oh, ask DRUCE! _His_ tops it, I believe--for the present."
"Ah, well! But the Century of Centuries, the Thousand of Merry May, the suggested knighthood, the coming National Testimonial, H. R. H.'s letter----"