



Produced by Punch, or the London Charivari, Matt Whittaker,
Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed Proofreading
Team at http://www.pgdp.net









PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.




VOL. 93.




AUGUST 13, 1887.




AT THE OVAL.

SURREY _VERSUS_ NOTTS. AUGUST 1ST, 2ND, AND 3RD 1887.

(_By One of the Fifty Thousand._)

_Enthusiastic Surreyite loquitur_:--

[Illustration: Lo! man!]

[Illustration: Shrews--bery!]

[Illustration: Gunn and Barnes.]

  _Hooray!_ Oh, you _must_ let me holloa. I'm one of the famed "Surrey
          Crowd,"
  And a roar for a win such as _this_ is, can_not_ be too long or too loud.
  Won by four wickets! As good as though WALTER had scored half a million,
  Great Scott! what a rush from the ring! what a crowd round the crowded
          Pavilion!
  LOHMANN! MAURICE READ!! SHUTER!!! they shouted. KEY!!! KEY!!! LOHMANN!!!
          LOHMANN!!!
  "Took down the number" of Notts, Sir, and _she's_ a redoubtable foeman.
  _We_ haven't licked her for years, and she crowed, Sir, and not without
          reason;
  And now, under SHUTER, we've done it at last, Sir, and twice in one
          season!
  After a terrible tussle; how oft was my heart in my mouth, Sir.
  Luck now seemed to lean to the North, and anon would incline to the
          South, Sir.
  Game wasn't won till 'twas lost. Hooray, though, for Surrey! 'Twas _her_
          win.
  We missed our WOOD at the wicket, Notts squared it by missing her
          SHERWIN,
  Both with smashed fingers! Rum luck! But then cricketing luck _is_ a
          twister.
  And SHERWIN turned up second innings. _Did_ you twig his face when he
          missed her,
  That ball from J. SHUTER, our Captain? It ranked pretty high among
          matches,
  But Surrey _did_ make _some_ mistakes, Sir, and Notts----well, they
          _couldn't_ hold catches.
  SHUTER shone up, did he not? Forty-four, fifty-three, and _such_ cutting!
  Hooray! Here's his jolly good health, and look sharp, for they're close
          upon shutting.
  Partial be blowed! I'm a Surreyite down to my socks, that's a fact, Sir.
  _Must_ shout when my countymen score, and don't mind being caught in the
          act, Sir.
  Cracks didn't somehow come off. ARTHUR SHREWSBURY, Notts' great nonsuch,
  Didn't make fifty all told, and our WALTER--the world holds but _one_
          such--
  A poor twenty-five and eighteen--a mere fleabite for W. W.
  Still, he's our glory; and _if_ you can spot such another, I'll trouble
          you.
  _GRACE?_ Why, of course, in his day he was cock of the walk--that's a
          moral.
  I won't say a word against _him_; but our WALTER!--well, there, we won't
          quarrel.
  I'm Surrey, you know, as I said. I remember JUPP, HUMPHRY, and STEVENSON,
  Burly BEN GRIFFITH, and SOUTHERTON! Well, if it ever was evens on
  Match, it was surely on _this_ one. Oh, yes, _I_ gave points, six to
          five, Sir,
  But then I have always backed Surrey, and _will_ do so whilst I'm alive,
          Sir.
  And t'other was Notts, don't you see, so _I_ couldn't well show the white
          feather.
  Ah! well, 'twas a wonderful match; such a crowd, such a game, and such
          weather!
  K. J. K. (that's Mr. KEY) showed remarkably promising cricket--
  I _did_ feel a little bit quisby when SHERWIN snapped him at the wicket.
  'Twas getting too close, Sir, for comfort; two hundred and five takes
          some making--
  When BARNES nicked READ, SHUTER, and HENDERSON, 'gad, there were lots of
          hearts quaking.
  Seventy-eight for a win, Sir, and five of our best wickets levelled.
  Notts then began to pick up, and I own I felt rather blue-devilled;
  But Surrey has got a rare team, and you see