'Well; and how came you here?' said Mr Pickwick, with a smile in

which benevolence struggled with surprise. 'Come,' replied the

stranger - 'stopping at Crown - Crown at Muggleton - met a party -

flannel jackets - white trousers - anchovy sandwiches - devilled

kidney - splendid fellows - glorious.'

Mr Pickwick was sufficiently versed in the stranger's system of

stenography to infer from this rapid and disjointed communication

that he had, somehow or other, contracted an acquaintance with the

All-Muggletons, which he had converted, by a process peculiar to

himself, into that extent of good-fellowship on which a general

invitation may be easily founded. His curiosity was therefore satisfied,

and putting on his spectacles he prepared himself to watch the play

which was just commencing.

All-Muggleton had the first innings; and the interest became intense

when Mr Dumkins and Mr Podder, two of the most renowned

members of that most distinguished club, walked, bat in hand, to

their respective wickets. Mr Luffey, the highest ornament of Dingley

Dell, was pitched to bowl against the redoubtable Dumkins, and Mr

Struggles was selected to do the same kind office for the hitherto

unconquered Podder. Several players were stationed, to 'look out,' in

different parts of the field, and each fixed himself into the proper

attitude by placing one hand on each knee, and stooping very much

as if he were 'making a back' for some beginner at leap-frog. All the

regular players do this sort of thing; - indeed it is generally supposed

that it is quite impossible to look out properly in any other position.

The umpires were stationed behind the wickets; the scorers were

prepared to notch the runs; a breathless silence ensued. Mr Luffey

retired a few paces behind the wicket of the passive Podder, and

applied the ball to his right eye for several seconds. Dumkins

confidently awaited its coming with his eyes fixed on the motions of

Luffey.

'Play!' suddenly cried the bowler. The ball flew from his hand straight

and swift towards the centre stump of the wicket. The wary Dumkins

was on the alert: it fell upon the tip of the bat, and bounded far away

over the heads of the scouts, who had just stooped low enough to let it

fly over them.

'Run - run - another. - Now, then throw her up - up with her - stop

there - another - no - yes - no - throw her up, throw her up!' - Such

were the shouts which followed the stroke; and at the conclusion of

which All-Muggleton had scored two. Nor was Podder behindhand in

earning laurels wherewith to garnish himself and Muggleton. He

blocked the doubtful balls, missed the bad ones, took the good ones,

and sent them flying to all parts of the field. The scouts were hot and

The Pickwick Papers